The Rhyme Of The
Spanish Needle.
WHEN the sunflowers are a-dying on the hollow
and the hill.
And the golden-rod is budding, kind of waiting
like until
Frosty mornings have unfolded all its regimental
plumes,
There's a little inter-regnum when the Spanish-
needle blooms.
Now the nights are growing chilly and the morn-
ings cool and calm,
And the days are sweet and sunny filled with
Nature's pungent balm,
There's a rare intoxication in those aromatic
fumes
When the sunflower is a-dying and the Spanish-
needle blooms.
There's a mist upon the meadow in these dreamy
autumn days,
And the world is bathed at evening in an ame-
thystine haze;
There's a joy in mere existence that the raptured
soul consumes
When the golden-rod is budding and the Span-
ish-needle blooms.
Oh, the fallow fields of autumn they are full of
drifting gold!
And 'tis there I seek for treasure like a cavalier
of old;
For the jewels of her sunsets, for her casket of
perfumes,
For the priceless joy of living when the Spanish-
needle blooms.
__Albert Bigelow Paine.
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