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AUTUMNAL.

The yellow leaves, the sober sun,
The shaven harvest plain,
Betoken summer's work is done
And autumn here again.

110

And as upon the scene I gaze,—
The pleasing, fading show,—
How from the Eld come other days,
And autumns long ago!
A boy, inspired by Nature's charm,
Her willing devotee,
The lonely limits of the farm
Were all the world to me.
The streamy vale, the smoky haze,
The bordering mountains blue,
The mild attempered solar blaze,
The woods in splendors new.
The well-kept gun, the happy dog
That scoured the water brink,
And sought in woods or sedgy bog
The squirrel or the mink.
The happy nights I mind again
That with those days were wed:—
The kettle bubbling on the crane,
The feast of chestnuts spread.
The south wind in the maples o'er
The lowly kitchen eaves,
The fitful sound, without the door,
Of rustling, drifting leaves.
The social chat, the well-worn book
Of fancy or of lore,
Or tales beside the chimney-nook,
Well loved, though heard before.
What wonder, to the man of years,
Who sees with careful eyes,
Such vision of the past appears
A blessed paradise!