Besides the Autumn poets sing
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the Haze.
A few incisive mornings -
A few ascetic Eves -
Gone - Mr. Bryant's "Golden Rod"
And Mr. Thomson's "Sheaves."
Still, is the bustle in the brook -
Sealed, are the spicy valves -
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The eyes of many Elves -

Perhaps a squirrel may remain
My sentiments to share -
Grant me Oh Lord a
sunny mind -
Thy windy will to bear!