their
     little prayers are said,
  Duck beneath the patchwork covers when they
     tumble into bed.

  It's September, and a calmness and a sweetness
     seem to fall
  Over everything that's living, just as though it
     hears the call
  Of Old Winter, trudging slowly, with his pack
     of ice and snow,
  In the distance over yonder, and it somehow
     seems as though
  Every tiny little blossom wants to look its very
     best
  When the frost shall bite its petals and it droops
     away to rest.

  It's September! It's the fullness and the ripeness
     of the year;
  All the work of earth is finished, or the final
     tasks are near,
  But there is no doleful wailing; every living
     thing that grows,
  For the end that is approaching wears the
     finest garb it knows.
  And I pray that I may proudly hold my head
     up high and smile
  When I come to my September in the golden
     afterwhile.

{62}

HOW DO YOU TACKLE YOUR WORK?

  How do you tackle your work each day?
    Are you scared of the job you find?
  Do you grapple the task that comes your way
    With a confident, easy mind?
  Do you stand right up to the work ahead
    Or fearfully pause to view it?
  Do you start to toil with a sense of dread
    Or feel that you're going to do it?

  You can do as much as you think you can,
    But you'll never accomplish more;
  If you're afraid of yourself, young man,
    There's little for you in store.
  For failure comes from the inside first,
    It's there if we only knew it,
  And you can win, though you face the worst,
    If you feel that you're going to do it.