BY GRACE LOUISE ROBINSON.
Written for The Troy Times.
Two lanes of blue, above, below;
The tender sky, the eager flow
Of Hudson, ocean-bound.
And pulsing ships that go and come
Amid October's gentle hum,
In orange sunshine steeped.
The eastern hills, a scarlet row,
Where sumac and thorn-apples glow,
Above the soft marsh-grass;
While, on the west, the Catskills gleam,
The age-long guardians of the stream,
Fair mountain citadels.
While ever between is the siren sheen
Of the river alluring in golden green,
Shot through with autumn light.
The blackbird brushes the river edge
As he stoops to drink from the brimming edge,
Then lilts a gorgeous song.
And bird and hills and mountains, all three,
Are notes in the autumn symphony,
The Hudson glorified,
With October beautified,
Rich with the gold of fall,
Warm with the life of all.