Page:Poems Trask.djvu/168

The star-eyed frost-flower, at the trees' dun feet,
 Nods low, as listening to the fairy sprites,
Which, maybe, at this season love to meet
 And trip the elfin dance these lonesome nights.

The snow-white rabbit, changed to dapple gray,
 Hops light along the leafy, rustling aisles;
The squirrel, chirping on his homeward way,
 Rests for a moment on the low rail stiles.

The graceful fox, with terror-quickened bounds,
 Though thirsty, stops not at the silver rills:
He hears the baying of the hoarse-mouthed hounds,
 And hunters shouting, down the bare brown hills.

The partridge drums along the yellow dell,
 The droning raven croaks on blasted trees,
And in the copse the quail's low piping bell
 Charms and entrances with its melodies.

The mellow apples blush in spacious heaps,
 Waiting to load the cumbrous harvest-wain;
The purple grapes gleam on the highland steeps,
 And scarlet thorn-plums every hill-side stain.

And at his work the reaper whistles shrill,
 Plodding his slow way o'er the wheat-grown wold;
And in the fields the corn-shocks stand so still
 They seem like towers of tessellated gold.

By Northern lakes the wild geese have long talks,
 Each shrill voice clamorous, vain of rule and sway,