'TIS the ending of October;

Mid the plashing of the rain,

Bright no more, but dull and sober,

Dead leaves flick against the pane.

Sobbing, moaning, wailing, calling,

Seems the wind some erring soul,

While within I watch the falling,

Fading pictures in the coal.

On the walls in antic dances

Wreathing hands the shadows play.

E'en my owl casts eerie glances, -

Friar owl in cowl of gray.

In a pine-knot's dying embers

Summer friendships flame and die;

Ah, how little one remembers

Of the friends of last July!

While the winged flames yet flutter,

Beating 'gainst their iron cage,

Boyhood's friendships blaze and sputter,

Yet untried by shocks of age.

Glowing love next flames and flashes

Brightly while it lasts; too soon

Shall December's whitened ashes

Dull the genial glow of June.

Pictured in the maze before me,

Sparkling eyes and golden hair,

And a flood of thoughts come o'er me,

As she stands there false and fair.

But the proverb odd and olden

Burns amid the ruddy coals;

"Chains for clay makes Love, the golden,

Friendship is the link of souls."

In the shifting, gay mosaic,

Joy and sadness, hope, despair,

Scenes romantic, scenes prosaic,

Dizzy castles in the air -

Hark! with tones of sombre meaning,

From without a church-bell tolls,

While I sit and idly dreaming

Watch the pictures in the coals.

FEZ.