An Autumn Morning.

How sweet to wake at early morn
And see the rustling curtains sway
To little, cooling, soothing winds
That soft make play.
To feel the rose scent on them borne,
To see the sky a mist of blue
And earth all fresh and green;
There comes to you
The faint chirp of a distant bird,
And locusts' songs of morning birth
From all around, "Oh, what," you ask,
"Is Heaven if this is Earth?"

—C.H.A.