240 SEPTEMBER. 



And boys are busy in the woods, 



Gathering the ripe nuts, bright and brown ;- 

 In shady lanes the children stray 

 Looking for blackberries through the day, 



Those berries of such old renown ! 



— Grey mists at morn brood o'er the earth, 



Shadowy as those on northern seas : 

 The gossamer's filmy work is done, 

 Like a web by moonlight fairies spun, 

 And left to whiten in the breeze. 



The sun bursts forth — the distant hills 

 Shine out, and splendid is the day — 



A sombre radiance crowns each tree, 



A fading glory solemnly 



Hangs on each leaf in its decay ; 



Go to the silent autumn woods ! 



There has gone forth a spirit stern ; 

 Its wing has waved in triumph here, 

 The Spring's green tender leaf is sere, 



And withering hangs the summer fern. 



Now to the mountains turn thine eye, — 



How shine they through the burnished air ! 

 The little flocks, like drifts of snow, 

 The shepherds' sheilings grey and low, 

 Thou seest them in their beauty there. 



— Oh to lie down in wilds apart, 



Where man is seldom seen or heard ; 

 In still and ancient forests, where 

 Mows not his scythe, ploughs not his share, 

 With the shy deer and cooing bird ! 



