Give me October’s meditative haze,

Its gossamer mornings, dewy-wimpled eves,

Dewy and fragrant, fragrant and secure,

The long slow sound of farmward-wending wains,

When homely Love sups quiet ‘mid his sheaves,

Sups ‘mid his sheaves, his sickle at his side,

And all is peace, peace and plump fruitfulness.

Alfred Austin
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