Hail, old October, bright and chill, First freedman from the summer sun! Spice high the bowl, and drink your fill! Thank heaven, at last the summer's done! Come, friend, my fire is burning bright, A fire's no longer out of place, How clear it glows! (there's frost to-night,) It looks white winter in the face. You've been to "Richard." Ah! you've seen A noble play: I'm glad you went; But what on earth does Shakespeare mean By "@3winter@1 of our @3discontent@1"? Be mine the Tree that feeds the fire! Be mine the sun knows when to set! Be mine the months when friends desire To turn in here from cold and wet! The sentry sun, that glared so long O'erhead, deserts his summer post; Ay, you may brew it hot and strong: "The joys of winter"—come, a toast! Shine on the kangaroo, thou sun! Make far New Zealand faint with fear! Don't hurry back to spoil our fun, Thank goodness, old October's here! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOW-WORM by WILLIAM COWPER THE MESSAGES by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON NIGHT AND DAY by SIDNEY LANIER MARTHY VIRGINIA'S HAND [SEPTEMBER 17, 1862] by GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP TO MR. GAY, WHO WROTE HIM A CONGRATULATORY LETTER ON FINISHING HOUSE by ALEXANDER POPE UNDERWOODS: BOOK 2: 16. THE DEAREST FRIENDS ARE THE AULDEST FRIENDS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |