NATURE’S GLORY.

Oh, golden days with cloudless skies— When forests flame with gorgeous dyes; A touch of wine seems in the air, Fields are brown—pastures bare. Deep purple wraps the distant hills, Gray shadows fall upon the rills;— Thro’ rustling corn the zephyrs sigh, In grief to see fair summer die. These are days of Nature’s glory, Sung in song, and told in story. —J. Mayne Baltimore.