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October the Artist.
October is an artist rare,
He paints new pictures, every day;
His colors come from who know where?—
Red, orange, purple, misty gray;
He touches first the maple leaf
Which biting frosts have brought to grief.
He paints the grass, and every vine
That clambers over fence or wall:
His hazel eyes mischievous shine,
For when the leaves begin to fall,
He makes them dance around, around,
In elfin rings along the ground!
Edith M. Thomas.
