Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, OCTOBER, by MARGARETTA P. CAMPBELL

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OCTOBER, by            
First Line: The summer days were almost gone
Last Line: "your work's well done, my child."
Subject(s): Art & Artists; Colors; Paintings & Painters

The summer days were almost gone,
October loomed ahead.
The Lord of Heaven's workshop
Looked up one day and said,
"Go find my roguish artist,
That vagabond, Jack Frost;
Tell him to bring his paint pots,
Nor must he count the cost.
I want him to go quickly down
And paint for all he's worth;
To see how gay and brilliant
He can make my dusty earth."
'Twas soon arranged; off he went,
His brushes in his hand.
He spread his paints so lavishly
O'er the hot, dusty land,
So that everyone who fared forth
In the bright autumn weather,
Felt his own soul expand and swell
As light as a feather.
Said one, "I think each year I live,
This world lovelier grows;
I love the tang that's in the woods,
Its source nobody knows.
I love all the vivid colors
Jack Frost puts on the trees;
Such mingling of bright hues and shades,
One seldom elsewhere sees."
The Lord of Heaven's workshop
Looked on Jack's work and smiled;
He said, "Come home and rest awhile,
Your work's well done, my child."

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