05 April 2014

Autumn - An 1867 Poem

By Wilmon Whilldin.
The bright Oleander is faded and gone,
The Eglantine bush turneth brown;
The tulips that studded our grotto and lawn,
Dock no more the greensward and mound,
The Exquisite Shrub has lost its perfume;
Its kindred boughs have a golden plume,
But their toilette is fading away.
The Margoram and Myrtle have perished,
And dead is the sweet Marigold;
The Mistletoe vine we cherished
Falls away from lattice and fold,
The grain is garnered — fruit is ripe,
And the husbandman's work is nigh done;
Wild pigeons gather a harvest of seeds
Which mature 'neath the Autumnal sun.
The whistling wind find chilly now,
And the cattle come oft to the barn;
The poultry near the cottage crib,
For the grass is frosted and shorn.
Birds migrate to sunnier climes,
Save a few that are hardy and tough;
Robins flock round the cedar boughs,
Wild plovers go off to the bluff.
The dove coo-coos in the stubble field,
And feasts on the scattered grain;
Larks fly out from the dreary glade,
And away to the valley and plain,
Night gales creep to the rattling reeds,
And frighten the partridge away;
Among the brakes the heron feeds,
And moans till the break of day,
Agile fawn are off to the mountain,
Lithe coyotes off to the lair;
Panting herds come slow to the fountain,
For the liquid is plenty elsewhere.
Falcons flit forth from the eyry,
And pilfer the farmer's brood;
The hunter, with hound lithe and fiery,
Starts the hare from jungle and wood.
Urchins go hunt the chestnut tree,
Or seek the grapes in the dell;
Spry lassies full of joyous glee,
Go gather the nuts that have fell;
Belles now doff their satin and gauze,
For the days are dreary no more;
Lonely looks the quiet lawn,
For its, sweet spell is o'er;
Yellow sheaves are on the mow,
The cribs are teeming with maize;
Contentment lights the farmer's brow,
As he prospects a winter of ease;
Meadows are cropped, and bins are filled;
The racks are bending with hay;
The cider is made — the barley is milled,
And we love the Autumnal day.
Autumn. October 23, 1867. Bloomsburg Democrat 31(34): 1.