<h2 class="p4">SEPTEMBER</h2>
<p class="pn center">Ancient Cornish name:<br/>
Miz-guerda gala, white straw month.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn center">Jewel for the month: Chrysolite. Antidote
to madness.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pni">If the woodcock had but the partridge's thigh,</p>
<p class="pni">He'd be the best bird that ever did fly.</p>
<p class="pni">If the partridge had but the woodcock's breast,</p>
<p class="pni">He'd be the best bird that ever was dress'd.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn center"><span class="smcap">Harvest Hwome.</span></p>
<p class="pni">The ground is clear. There's nar a ear</p>
<p class="pni">O' stannen corn a-left out now,</p>
<p class="pni">Vor win' to blow or rain to drow;</p>
<p class="pni">'Tis all up seafe in barn or mow.</p>
<p class="pni">Here's health to them that plough'd an' zow'd;</p>
<p class="pni">Here's health to them that reap'd an' mow'd,</p>
<p class="pni">An' them that had to pitch an' lwoad,</p>
<p class="pni"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</SPAN></span>Or tip the rick at Harvest Hwome.</p>
<p class="pni">The happy zight,—the merry night;</p>
<p class="pni">The men's delight,—the Harvest Hwome.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>W. Barnes.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn20">We have ploughed, we have sowed,<br/>
We have reaped, we have mowed,<br/>
We have brought home every load,<br/>
Hip, hip, hip, Harvest Home.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Gloucester.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p><span class="smcap">Harvest Toast.</span></p>
<p class="pni">Here's a health to the barley mow,</p>
<p class="pni">Here's a health to the man who very well can</p>
<p class="pn10">Both harrow and plough and sow.</p>
<p class="pn20">When it is well sown,</p>
<p class="pn20">See it is well mown,</p>
<p class="pn10">Both raked and gravell'd clean,</p>
<p class="pn10">And a barn to lay it in,</p>
<p class="pni">Here's a health to the man who very well can</p>
<p class="pn10">Both thrash and fan it clean.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Suffolk.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pni">Tramping after grouse or partridge through the soft September air,</p>
<p class="pni">Both my pockets stuffed with cartridge, and my heart devoid of care.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</SPAN></span></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn20">September blow soft.<br/>
Till the fruit's in the loft.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn center"><span class="smcap">Of Gardens.</span></p>
<p>In September come grapes, apples, poppies
of all colours, peaches, melocotones (yellow
peaches), nectarines, cornelians, wardens,
quinces.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Bacon.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pni">Spring was o'er happy and knew not the reason,</p>
<p class="pni">And Summer dreamed sadly, for she thought all was ended</p>
<p class="pni">In her fulness of wealth that might not be amended;</p>
<p class="pni">But this is the harvest and the garnering season,</p>
<p class="pni">And the leaf and the blossom in the ripe fruit are blended.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>W. Morris.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pni">A bloom upon the apple tree when the apples are ripe</p>
<p class="pni">Is a sure termination to somebody's life.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p>September dries up wells or breaks down
bridges.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Portugal.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Many haws, many sloes, many cold toes.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p>When September thirteenth falls on a Friday,
the Autumn will be dry and sunny.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>France.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p>September fifteenth is said to be fine in six
years out of seven.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn15">Onion skin very thin,<br/>
Mild winter coming in;<br/>
Onion skin thick and tough,<br/>
Coming winter cold and rough.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn20">Set strawberries, wife,<br/>
I love them for life.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Tusser.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn10">The barberry, respis, and gooseberry too,<br/>
Look now to be planted as other things do:<br/>
The gooseberry, respis, and roses all three,<br/>
With strawberries under them trimly agree.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Tusser.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn20">Wild with the winds of September</p>
<p class="pni">Wrestled the trees of the forest, as Jacob of old with the angel.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Longfellow.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="pn20">That mellow season of the year</p>
<p class="pni">When the hot sun singes the yellow leaves</p>
<p class="pni">Till they be gold, and with a broader sphere</p>
<p class="pni">The moon looks down on Ceres and her sheaves.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Hood.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn10">When the falling waters utter<br/>
Something mournful on their way,<br/>
And departing swallows flutter,<br/>
Taking leave of bank and brae;<br/>
When the chaffinch idly sitteth<br/>
With her mate upon the sheaves,<br/>
And the wistful robin flitteth<br/>
Over beds of yellow leaves;<br/>
When the clouds like ghosts that ponder<br/>
Evil fate, float by and frown,<br/>
And the listless wind doth wander<br/>
Up and down, up and down:<br/>
<br/>
Through the fields and fallows wending,<br/>
It is sad to walk alone.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Jean Ingelow.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn center">
St. Matthew. (<i>September 21st.</i>)<br/>
St. Matthee shut up the bee.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</SPAN></span></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pni">The flush of the landscape is o'er,</p>
<p class="pni10">The brown leaves are shed on the way,</p>
<p class="pni">The dye of the lone mountain-flower</p>
<p class="pni10">Grows wan and betokens decay.</p>
<p class="pni">All silent the song of the thrush,</p>
<p class="pni10">Bewilder'd she cowers in the dale;</p>
<p class="pni">The blackbird sits lone on the bush—</p>
<p class="pni10">The fall of the leaf they bewail.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Hogg.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pni">Summer is gone on swallow's wings,</p>
<p class="pni10">And earth has buried all her flowers;</p>
<p class="pni">No more the lark, the linnet sings,</p>
<p class="pni10">But silence sits in faded bowers.</p>
<p class="pn20">There is a shadow on the plain</p>
<p class="pn20">Of Winter, ere he comes again.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Hood.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pni10">The feathers of the willow</p>
<p class="pni10">Are half of them grown yellow</p>
<p class="pni10">Above the swelling stream;</p>
<p class="pni10">And ragged are the bushes,</p>
<p class="pni10">And rusty now the rushes,</p>
<p class="pni10"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</SPAN></span>And wild the clouded gleam.</p>
<p class="pni10">The thistle now is older,</p>
<p class="pni10">His stalk begins to moulder,</p>
<p class="pni10">His head is white as snow;</p>
<p class="pni10">The branches all are barer,</p>
<p class="pni10">The linnet's song is rarer,</p>
<p class="pni10">The robin pipeth now.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Dixon.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn">Nothing stirs the sunny silence,<br/>
Save the drowsy humming of the bees<br/>
Round the rich, ripe peaches on the wall,<br/>
And the south wind sighing in the trees,<br/>
And the dead leaves rustling as they fall:<br/>
While the swallows, one by one, are gathering,<br/>
All impatient to be on the wing,<br/>
And to wander from us, seeking<br/>
Their beloved Spring.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Adelaide Procter.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn center"><span class="smcap">The Garden.</span></p>
<p class="pn10">What wondrous life is this I lead!<br/>
Ripe apples drop about my head.<br/>
The luscious clusters of the vine<br/>
Upon my mouth do crush their wine.<br/>
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</SPAN></span>The nectarine, and curious peach<br/>
Into my hands themselves do reach.<br/>
Stumbling on melons, as I pass,<br/>
Insnared with flowers, I fall on grass.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Andrew Marvell.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn center"><span class="smcap">St. Michael's Day.</span> (<i>September 29th.</i>)</p>
<p>In the Sarum Missal St. Michael is invoked
as a "most glorious and warlike prince," "chief
officer of paradise," "captain of God's hosts,"
"the receiver of souls," "the vanquisher of
evil spirits," and "the admirable general."</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>From Hone.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p>If Michaelmas Day be fair, the sun will shine
much in the winter; though the wind at northeast
will frequently reign long, and be very
sharp and nipping.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Thomas Passenger.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pni">Fresh herring plenty Michael brings,</p>
<p class="pni">With fatted crones (old ewes) and such old things.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Tusser.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pni"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</SPAN></span>When the tenants come to pay their quarter's rent,</p>
<p class="pni">They bring some fowl at Midsummer, a dish of fish in Lent,</p>
<p class="pni">At Christmas a capon, at Michaelmas a goose,</p>
<p class="pni">And somewhat else at New Year's tide, for fear their lease fly loose.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>G. Gascoigne.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn10">Geese now in their prime season are,<br/>
Which if well roasted are good fare:<br/>
Yet, however, friends take heed<br/>
How too much on them you feed,<br/>
Lest, when as your tongues run loose,<br/>
Your discourse do smell of goose.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>"Poor Robin," 1695.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p>If you eat goose on Michaelmas Day you will
never want money all the year round.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pn center"><span class="smcap">Old Saying.</span></p>
<p class="pn15">The Michaelmas moon<br/>
Rises nine nights alike soon.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="pni10">The moon in the wane, gather fruit for to last;</p>
<p class="pni10">But winter fruit gather, when Michael is past;</p>
<p class="pni10">Though michers (thieves) that love not to buy nor to crave,</p>
<p class="pni10">Make some gather sooner, else few for to have.</p>
<p class="pnr"><i>Tusser.</i></p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</SPAN></span></p>
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