264 FROM A MIDDLESEX GARDEN 



that which is passing, sucking it up." Perhaps it looks 

 more brilliant now through having drunk of the lustre 

 around it, of the mighty trees' fallen foliage, which makes 

 Autumntide so lovely in the woods, under whose rich carpet 

 Nature sinks to sleep, to the berceuse of the wind : 



Cradled beneath us, blossoms sleep ; 



Dreams of the Springtime now be yours, 

 That soon will wander to our shores, 



The woodland festival to keep. 



Now vanished from the sight of man, 



Flown far away on wings unseen, 



To fairyland that once has been 

 The golden time, the age of Pan. 



