September
September
Poem
Farewell, farewell to summertime,
The long, bright holiday.
The children have their lessons now,
And cannot always play.
The goldenrod is in the fields,
The cardinal flower burns bright;
The sun is down by six o'clock,
And then it soon is night.
But in the pleasant afternoons,
When lessons all are said,
There still are left some hours or so
Before 'tis time for bed.
The children shout; their cheeks are red;
They jump about and run.
The sweetest hours for play are those
When work has been well done.
Notes
Written by Katharine Pyle.
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