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I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like silence, listening
To silence, for no read more
I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like silence, listening
To silence, for no lonely bird would sing
Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn,
Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;--
Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright
With tangled gossamer that fell by night,
Pearling his coronet of golden corn.
All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,
Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.
All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,
Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.
Sorrow and the scarlet leaf,
Sad thoughts and sunny weather;
Ah me! this glory and this grief
read more
Sorrow and the scarlet leaf,
Sad thoughts and sunny weather;
Ah me! this glory and this grief
Agree not well together!
No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one autumnal face;
Young read more
No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one autumnal face;
Young beauties force our love, and that's a rape;
This doth but counsel, yet you cannot scape.
Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night,
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When read more
Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night,
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade,
And the low sun had lengthened every shade.
Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes read more
Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.
The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown read more
The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear.
The mellow autumn came, and with it came
The promised party, to enjoy its sweets.
The corn read more
The mellow autumn came, and with it came
The promised party, to enjoy its sweets.
The corn is cut, the manor full of game;
The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beats
In russet jacket;--lynx-like is his aim;
Full grows his bag, and wonderful his feats.
An, nutbrown partridges! An, brilliant pheasants!
And ah, ye poachers!--'Tis no sport for peasants.
The year's in wane;
There is nothing adorning;
The night has no eve,
And read more
The year's in wane;
There is nothing adorning;
The night has no eve,
And the day has no morning;
Cold winter gives warning!