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!