p. 12 | OCTOBER IN CALIFORNIA by DORIS

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Oct 20, 1898

OCTOBER IN CALIFORNIA.

By DORIS

[The writer is a sorely afflicted invalid.]

October peeps in at my window With her tangle of sunny hair, And a smile like the light of morning On her beautiful face so fair.

She beckons to me so gaily: “Come out in the warm sunshine, And gather my red, red roses, And the purple fruit of the vine.

“The earth sings a song of thanksgiving, The birds, a carol so sweet, And all of my shining grasses Will carpet a path for your feet.”

But I answer, Alas, October, My prison I can not leave Until I have learned my lesson, And finished the web I must weave.

For years I have conned the lesson, But the answer I can not find, For the gloom of the prison chills me And clouds and benumbs the mind.

And tangles come in my weaving, My eyes have grown so dim With the tears that fall on the fabric And are constantly woven in.

But I know He who said, “I will lead thee By paths thou hast not known,” Will guide me out of the darkness To the light that surrounds the throne.

And perhaps then I’ll know the meaning Of my wearisome load and cross Was the Master’s way of refining The gold from the cumbersome dross.

And it may be, sometime, fair October, That together, hand in hand, You will show to me all the splendors That gleam on the sea and land.

DORIS.

San Francisco, Cal.