October walks these beautiful days
In a pale, pale lavender gown,
Slashed with the russet of dying leaves
And bordered with silver down.
Her head is bended, her bronzy hair
Is wind-blown over her eyes,
And the mantle twisted about her brow
Is woven of rosy dyes.
Her lips are sad with a mute farewell,
As she looks in the eyes of the year,
As two that love, yet meet to part
Without a word or a tear.
She carries an acorn rosary,
And when each bead has been kissed,
She draws her draperies round her,
And vanishes thro’ the mist.
“October” as it appears in Higginson’s The Voice of April-Land (1903).
A draft of “October,” courtesy of the Ella Higginson Papers, Center for Pacific Northwest Studies, Heritage Resources, Western Washington University, Bellingham Washington.