Sonett-Forum

AN AUTUMN MORNING

I

NOW o'er yon hill the glad Aurora comes,
Blushing from rosy cheeks to finger tips,
And o'er the meadow, through the mist she slips
Into the forest where the partridge drums.

The humble bee above the holly hums ;
The willow in the river softly dips;
Across the field the merry milkmaid trips,
And on her shining pail she gently thrums

An old love-ditty, wondering the while
If Robin Gray will meet her at the stile.
The lowing cattle o'er the sweet, late grass,

With rattling hoofs press onward to the rill,
Brushing the glittering dewdrops as they pass,
Till at the bubbling stream they drink their fill.


II


Scarcely a bird-song in the sunlit air.
Save now and then a mournful chickadee,
Weeping its heart away in melody,
Cries out the burden that it cannot bear.

The forest trees upon the upland wear
A gayer livery, and the eye can see,
As higher up the sun climbs lazily,
The stooks of corn stacked on the hillside fair.

The creaking wain rolls slowly toward the field,
Where tawny pumpkins doze beneath the sun;
Beyond, the patient cattle, one by one,

Stand waiting still their treasured sweets to yield,
Looking with wondering eyes ; the maid the while
Kisses her Robin bv the meadow stile.