Indian Summer

Ere winter wears bis polar shroud, Bright days adorn our Northern clime, The gnle forgets its challenge loud, And airs are soft as summer timo, The rounded orb of day behind The western liill in glory goes, The garland by October twined, On Earth a rainbow glory throws. The visitation of the frost Had hushed tile notes of bee and bird, The beauty of our Earth was lost, No music in her valley's heard. But Iridian Snmmer with aspell Todread Enehantment's art unknown, Has gloiy showered in dale and dell, And on the mountain's lofty cone. This blissful season of the year The roving red man loved of oíd His camp flres burn no longerhere, His bones are mingling with the mould: - But while our Indian Sunmiers give Strange beauty to the bilí and glen, The olden íbrest Kings will live, Shrined in the memory of men.