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Come out 'tis September, The hunter's moon's begun, And through the wheaten stubble Is heart the frequent gun. - Unattributed Author, All Among the Barley, made popular in song by Mrs. Elizabeth Stirling Bridge, published in "The Musical Times", no. 187, supplement A maiden born when Autumn leaves Are rustling in September's breeze, A Sapphire on her brow should bind, 'Twill cure diseases of the mind. - Unattributed Author, September, in "Notes and Queries", May 11, 1889, p. 371 O sweet September, thy first breezes bring The dry leaf's rustle and the squirrel's laughter, The cool fresh air whence health and vigor spring And promise of exceeding joy hereafter. - George Arnold, September Days The morrow was a bright September morn; The earth was beautiful as if new-born; There was that nameless splendor everywhere, That wild exhilaration in the air, Which makes the passers in the city street Congratulate each other as they meet. - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Tales of a Wayside Inn (pt. I), The Student's Tale--The Falcon of Sir Federigo, l. 135
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