<SPAN name="September"></SPAN>
<h2><SPAN href="images/head-sep.png"><ANTIMG width-obs="40%" src="images/head-sep.png" alt="September" /></SPAN></h2>
<p>O golden month! How high thy gold is heaped!<br/>
The yellow birch-leaves shine like bright coins strung<br/>
On wands; the chestnut's yellow pennons tongue<br/>
To every wind its harvest challenge. Steeped<br/>
In yellow, still lie fields where wheat was reaped;<br/>
And yellow still the corn sheaves, stacked among<br/>
The yellow gourds, which from the earth have wrung<br/>
Her utmost gold. To highest boughs have leaped<br/>
The purple grape,--last thing to ripen, late<br/>
By very reason of its precious cost.<br/>
O Heart, remember, vintages are lost<br/>
If grapes do not for freezing night-dews wait.<br/>
Think, while thou sunnest thyself in Joy's estate,<br/>
Mayhap thou canst not ripen without frost!</p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0%"><SPAN href="images/vign-09.png"><ANTIMG width-obs="40%" src="images/vign-09.png" alt="Vignette 9" /></SPAN></p>
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