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119
CRAB-APPLE GATHERERS.
When happy rooks were wheeling overhead,A noisy clan—we spent a bright half-hour,
Children and elders, where, in woodland bower,
The clustered crabs were gleaming rosy red.
'Mid shouts and laughter, soon the fruit lay spread
Upon the dewy grass, smiling but sour;
And soon we filled our baskets with the dower
Which Nature from her horn of plenty shed.
Then home we hied, with spoils of Autumn laden,
And from that fruit a golden syrup drew,
The joy of elders as of boy and maiden,
At many a merry meal the winter through:
Thrice happy who Life's bitters bravely meet,
And then through grace and patience find them sweet!
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