WHERE DID FAIR SEPTEMBER GO? : RICH ROACH

O where did fair September go?
Her once o'er-laden boughs now bare,
bereft of all warm Summer's care.
Perhaps she's drowned beneath the flow
of waters white, or lying low
beneath the clasping tide's fell tug.
Or is that her, deep in the jug
with Bacchus singing wine-sparked lays
of memories of former days?

September steals across the plains
and hies to happy, southern hills,
her laughter left behind in rills
of silv'ring cold.

Hear ye the strains
still sounding down the woodland lanes,
those plaintive tunes that seem to swim
along the withered water's rim?

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