 | [Poems by Piatt in] Poems of two friends |  |
25
A GLAD SEPTEMBER MORNING.
All things breathe full of life this Autumn, morn;The hills seem growing under silver cloud;
A fresher spirit in Nature's veins is born;
The woodlands are blowing lustily and loud—
The crows fly cawing among the flying leaves—
On sunward lifted branches struts the jay—
The fluttering brooklet, dashing bright, receives
Bright frosty silverings, slow from ledges gray
Of rock among fresh sunlight glittering out—
Cold apples drop through orchards mellowing—
'Neath forest eaves quick squirrels laugh and shout—
Farms answer farms, as through bright morns of spring,
And joy, with dewiest pulses, full and strong,
Joy, everywhere, goes Maying with a song.
| [Poems by Piatt in] Poems of two friends | |