Nature now spreads around in dreary hue A pall to cover all that summer knew Yet in the poets solitary way Some pleasing objects for his praise delay Somthing that makes him pause and turn again As every trifle will his eye detain The free horse rustling through the stubble land And bawling herd boy with his motly band Of hogs and sheep and cows who feed their fill Oer cleard fields rambling where so ere they will The geese flock gabbling in the splashy fields And quaking ducks in pondweeds half conseald Or seeking worms along the homclose sward Right glad of freedom from the prison yard While every cart rut dribbles its low tide And every hollow splashing sports provide The hedger stopping gaps wi pointed bough Made by intruding horse and blundering cow The milk maid tripping on her morning way And fodderers oft tho early cutting hay Dropping the littering forkfulls from his back Side where the thorn fence circles round the stack The cotter journying wi his noisev swine Along the wood side where the brambles twine Shaking from dinted cups the acorns brown And from the hedges red awes dashing down And nutters rustling in the yellow woods Scaring from their snug lairs the pheasant broods And squirrels secret toils oer winter dreams Picking the brown nuts from the yellow beams And hunters from the thickets avenue In scarlet jackets startling on the view Skiming a moment oer the russet plain Then hiding in the colord woods again The ploping guns sharp momentary shock Which eccho bustles from her cave to mock The sticking groups in many a ragged set Brushing the woods their harmless loads to get And gipseys camps in some snug shelterd nook Where old lane hedges like the pasture brook Run crooking as they will by wood and dell In such lone spots these wild wood roamers dwell On commons where no farmers claims appear Nor tyrant justice rides to interfere Such the abodes neath hedge or spreading oak And but discovered by its curling smoak Puffing and peeping up as wills the breeze Between the branches of the colord trees Such are the pictures that october yields To please the poet as he walks the fields Oft dames in faded cloak of red or grey Loiters along the mornings dripping way Wi wicker basket on their witherd arms Searching the hedges of home close or farms Where brashy elder trees to autum fade Each cotters mossy hut and garden shade Whose glossy berrys picturesquly weaves Their swathy bunches mid the yellow leaves Where the pert sparrow stains his little bill And tutling robin picks his meals at will Black ripening to the wan suns misty ray Here the industrious huswives wend their way Pulling the brittle branches carefull down And hawking loads of berrys to the town Wi unpretending skill yet half divine To press and make their eldern berry wine That bottld up becomes a rousing charm To kindle winters icy bosom warm That wi its merry partner nut brown beer Makes up the peasants christmass keeping cheer While nature like fair woman in decay Which pale consumption hourly wastes away Upon her waining features pale and chill Wears dreams of beauty that seem lovely still Among the heath furze still delights to dwell Quaking as if with cold the harvest bell The mushroom buttons each moist morning brings Like spots of snow in the green tawney rings And fuzz balls swelld like bladders in the grass Which oft the merry laughing milking lass Will stoop to gather in her sportive airs And slive in mimickd fondness unawares To smut the brown cheek of the teazing swain Wi the black powder which their balls contain Who feigns offence at first that love may speed Then charms a kiss to recompence the deed The flying clouds urged on in swiftest pace Like living things as if they runned a race The winds that oer each coming tempest broods Waking like spirits in their startling moods Fluttering the sear leaves on the blasting lea That litters under every fading tree And pausing oft as falls the pattering rain Then gathering strength and twirling them again The startld stockdove hurried wizzing bye As the still hawk hangs oer him in the sky Crows from the oak trees qawking as they spring Dashing the acorns down wi beating wing Waking the woodlands sleep in noises low Pattring on crimpt brakes withering brown below While from their hollow nest the squirrels (pop) Adown the tree to pick them as they drop The starnel crowds that dim the muddy light The crows and jackdaws flapping home at night And puddock circling round its lazy flight Round the wild sweeing wood in motion slow Before it perches on the oaks below And hugh black beetles revelling alone In the dull evening with their heavy drone Buzzing from barn door straw and hovel sides Where fodderd cattle from the night abides These pictures linger thro the shortning day And cheer the lone bards mellancholy way And now and then a solitary boy Journeying and muttering oer his dreams of joySourceThe script ran 0.002 seconds.
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