Rouse to some work of high and holy love, And thou an angel's happiness shall know. - Carlos Wilcox

The sultry summer past, September comes,
Soft twilight of the soft-declining year.
All mildness, soothing loneliness and peace,
The fading season ere the falling come.

Time well employed is Satan's deadliest foe:
It leaves no opening for the lurking fiend.

Be thy best thoughts to work divine addressed;
Do something — do it soon — will all thy might;
An angel's wing would droop if long at rest,
And God Himself inactive were no longer blessed.