Old October's purt' nigh gone, And the frosts is comin' on Little HEAVIER every day-- Like our hearts is thataway! Leaves is changin' overhead Back from green to gray and red, Brown and yeller, with their stems Loosenin' on the oaks and e'ms; And the balance of the trees Gittin' balder every breeze-- Like the heads we're scratchin' on! Old October's purt' nigh gone. I love Old October so, I can't bear to see her go-- Seems to me like losin' some Old-home relative er chum-- 'Pears like sorto' settin' by Some old friend 'at sigh by sigh Was a-passin' out o' sight Into everlastin' night! Hickernuts a feller hears Rattlin' down is more like tears Drappin' on the leaves below-- I love Old October so! Can't tell what it is about Old October knocks me out!-- I sleep well enough at night-- And the blamedest appetite Ever mortal man possessed,-- Last thing et, it tastes the best!-- Warnuts, butternuts, pawpaws, 'Iles and limbers up my jaws Fer raal service, sich as new Pork, spareribs, and sausage, too.-- Yit, fer all, they's somepin' 'bout Old October knocks me out! OLD-FASHIONED ROSES They ain't no style about 'em, And they're sorto' pale and faded, Yit the doorway here, without 'em, Would be lonesomer, and shaded With a good 'eal blacker shadder Than the morning-glories makes, And the sunshine would look sadder Fer their good old-fashion' sakes, I like 'em 'cause they kindo'-- Sorto' MAKE a feller like 'em! And I tell you, when I find a Bunch out whur the sun kin strike 'em, It allus sets me thinkin' O' the ones 'at used to grow And peek in thro' the chinkin' O' the cabin, don't you know! And then I think o' mother, And how she ust to love 'em-- When they wuzn't any other, 'Less she found 'em up above 'em! And her eyes, afore she shut 'em, Whispered with a smile and said We must pick a bunch and putt 'em In her hand when she wuz dead. But, as I wuz a-sayin', They ain't no style about 'em Very gaudy er displaying But I wouldn't be without 'em,-- 'Cause I'm happier in these posies, And the hollyhawks and sich, Than the hummin'-bird 'at noses In the roses of the rich. A COUNTRY PATHWAY I come upon it suddenly, alone-- A little pathway winding in the weeds That fringe the roadside; and with dreams my own, I wander as it leads. Full wistfully along the slender way, Through summer tan of freckled shade and shine, I take the path that leads me as it may-- Its every choice is mine.