(Original loetrg. THE BABBLING BEO K. ’Mid crimson clouds golden sun One gammer's evening sank, When forth I ..
... moods mellow Autumn: ’mongst the tinted trees, In thy meek, pensive smile, rare charms the poet sees. Basket in hand, yon blackberry-gather hies, Whistling along the glade with quickened pace, And lond the redbreast to his strain replies, While sportive ...