WHEN THE OAKS WEAR DAMSON 



Nothing is more inscrutable than a 

 sheep-nose. 



Fast above the indigo crests stir the 

 light clouds, harried by the west wind 

 whereon the hawk floats across the valley. 

 In the afternoon October's lover takes the ; 

 hill path, mica-gemmed, that leads be- 

 tween birches of the translucent yellow 

 leaf and maples still green but wearing 

 scarlet woodbine like a gypsy's sash. For 

 here the sunset lingers till the stars, though 

 from the valley's goblet evening has sipped 

 the waning sunlight like a clear amber 

 wine. But take at morning the path 

 through brown lowgrounds, or close along 

 the wood where frost sleeps late, for here 

 that flower of desire, the fringed gentian, , 

 grows. Its blue is less mysterious and 

 deep than the closed gentian's, and yet 

 how many name it the cup of autumn . 

 delight! 



In the woods where leafless boughs give 

 them blue sky at last are revealed in 

 quaint perfection the ferneries of the moss : 

 palm trees towering higher than a snail's 

 house, gallant green plumes with corne- 

 lians at the tip, vast tropical forests spread- 

 ing for long inches, gray trailing rivers 



[57] 



