Great August, lord of golden lands,
Whose lordly joy through seas and strands
⁠And all the red-ripe heart of earth
Strikes passion deep as life, and stills
The folded vales and folding hills
⁠With gladness too divine for mirth,
The gracious glories of thine eyes
Make night a noon where darkness dies.

Hail, kind September, friend whose grace
Renews the bland year's bounteous face
⁠With largess given of corn and wine
Through many a land that laughs with love
Of thee and all the heaven above,
⁠More fruitful found than all save thine
Whose skies fulfil with strenuous cheer
The fervent fields that knew thee near.