The September Gale

I'm not a chieken ; I havo seen Full many a chili September, And though I was a ynuiiíister tlicn, That fíale I well reineinber ; The day before my kite-Rtring snapped, And I niy kite piirsuing, The wind whisked off my palm-leaf bat, For me two storins wcre brewing. It came ae quarrcls sometimos do, When uiarried folk get clashing ; Tberc was a heavy sigh or two, Before the tiro was flashing, A üttle etir aiuong the doods Before they rent asimder, A little rocking of tho trees, And Uien came on the thnnder. Lord ! how the ponds and rivers boihd, And how the shingles ratlled ! And oakn wofe scattered on the groimd As if the Titans battled ; And all abovc was in a how), And all below & clatter, The earth waR like a frying-pau, Or some bucIi lussiug matter. It olianced to bc onr washing day, And all our things were drying ; Tlie Btorm came roaring througu tho liuea And set thoin all a flying. I saw the shirts and petticoats Go riding off like witches ; I lost- ah ! bitterly I wept - 1 lost my Suuday breeciiCB ! I saw them ptraddling throngli the air, Alas ! too late to win them ; I waw them chae the clondp, as if Tho devil had been in them. They were my darlings and my pride, My boyhood'n only riches ; Farewell, fareweli," I faintly cried, " My breechee ! Oh, my breeche!" That night I saw them in my dfeams, How Btrange froiu what I knew them ; Tho dews had eteeped their faded thrt-ads, The windB had whistled through them. I Baw the wide and ghastly rents, Where demon elaws had toru them ; A hole was in their amplest parts, As if an imp had worn them. I have had many happy yearf, And tailore kind and clever, But tbose young pantaloons have gone Forever and forever. And not till time has cut the last Of all my earthly stitches, Tliis aching heart shall cease to mourn My loved, my long-lost breeches.