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