'I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers' said L.M. Montgomery. Here's to the golden month.
October (from 'The Poet's Calendar') - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
My ornaments are fruits; my garments leaves,
Woven like cloth of gold, and crimson dyed;
I do not boast the harvesting of sheaves,
O'er orchards and o'er vineyards I preside.
Though on the frigid Scorpion I ride,
The dreamy air is full, and overflows
With tender memories of the summer-tide,
And mingled voices of the doves and crows.