September, all glorious with gold, as a king
⁠In the radiance of triumph attired,
Outlightening the summer, outsweetening the spring,
Broods wide on the woodlands with limitless wing,
⁠A presence of all men desired.

Far eastward and westward the sun-coloured lands
⁠Smile warm as the light on them smiles;
And statelier than temples upbuilded with hands,
Tall column by column, the sanctuary stands
⁠Of the pine-forest's infinite aisles.