Along the river's summer walk, 



The withered tufts of asters nod; 

 And trembles on the arid stalk 



The hoar plume of the golden-rod. 

 And on a ground of sombre fir, 

 And azure-studded juniper, 

 The silver birch its buds of purple shows, 

 And scarlet berries tell where bloomed the sweet 

 wild-rose! 



WHITTIER: The Last Walk in Autumn. 



