 | Poems |  |
113
SEPTEMBER.
Gradual the woods their varied tints assume;
The hawthorn reddens, and the rowan-tree
Displays its ruby clusters, seeming sweet,
Yet harsh, disfiguring the fairest face.
The hawthorn reddens, and the rowan-tree
Displays its ruby clusters, seeming sweet,
Yet harsh, disfiguring the fairest face.
At sultry hour of noon, the reaper band
Rest from their toil, and in the lusty stook
Their sickless hang. Around their simple fare,
Upon the stubble spread, blythesome they form
A circling groupe, while humbly waits behind
The wistful dog, and with expressive look,
And pawing foot, implores his little share.
Rest from their toil, and in the lusty stook
Their sickless hang. Around their simple fare,
Upon the stubble spread, blythesome they form
A circling groupe, while humbly waits behind
The wistful dog, and with expressive look,
And pawing foot, implores his little share.
The short repast, seasoned with simple mirth,
And not without the song, gives place to sleep.
With sheaf beneath his head, the rustic youth
Enjoys sweet slumbers, while the maid he loves
Steals to his side, and screens him from the sun.
And not without the song, gives place to sleep.
114
Enjoys sweet slumbers, while the maid he loves
Steals to his side, and screens him from the sun.
But not by day alone the reapers toil:
Oft in the moon's pale ray the sickle gleams,
And heaps the dewy sheaf;—thy changeful sky,
Poor Scotland, warns to seize the hour serene.
Oft in the moon's pale ray the sickle gleams,
And heaps the dewy sheaf;—thy changeful sky,
Poor Scotland, warns to seize the hour serene.
The gleaners, wandering with the morning ray,
Spread o'er the new-reaped field. Tottering old age,
And lisping infancy, are there, and she
Who better days has seen.—
No shelter now
The covey finds; but, hark! the murderous tube.
Exultingly the deep-mouthed spaniel bears
The fluttering victim to his master's foot:
Perhaps another, wounded, flying far,
Eludes the eager following eye, and drops
Among the lonely furze, to pine and die.
Spread o'er the new-reaped field. Tottering old age,
And lisping infancy, are there, and she
Who better days has seen.—
No shelter now
The covey finds; but, hark! the murderous tube.
Exultingly the deep-mouthed spaniel bears
The fluttering victim to his master's foot:
Perhaps another, wounded, flying far,
Eludes the eager following eye, and drops
Among the lonely furze, to pine and die.
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