Classic Poem

Nature now spreads around in dreary hue
A pall to cover all that summer knew
Yet in the poets solitary way
Some pleasing objects for his praise delay
Somthing that makes him pause & turn again
As every trifle will his eye detain
The free horse rustling thro the stubble field
& cows at lare in rushes half conscealed
With groups of restless sheep who feed their fill
Oer cleard fields rambling were so ere they will
The geese flock gabbling in the splashy fields
& qua[c]king ducks in pondweeds half conseald
Or seeking worms along the homclose sward
Right glad of freedom from the prison yard
While every cart rut dribbles its low tide
& every hollow splashy sports provide
The hedger stopping gaps amid the leaves
That oer his head in every color weaves
The milk maid stepping with a timid look
From stone to stone across the brimming brook
The cotter journeying wi his noisey swine
Along the wood ride were the brambles twine
Shaking from dinted cups the acorns brown
& from the hedges red awes dashing down
While nutters rustling in the yellow woods
Still scare the wild things from their solitudes
& squirrels secret toils oer winter dreams
Picking the brown nuts from the yellow leams
& hunters from the thickets avenue
In scarlet jackets startling on the view
Skiming a moment oer the russet plain
Then hiding in the colord woods again
The ploping guns sharp momentary shock
Which eccho bustles from her cave to mock
The inly pleased tho solitary boy
Journeying & muttering oer his dreams of joy
Haunting the hedges for the wilding fruit
Of sloe or black berry just as fancys suit
The sticking groups in many a ragged set
Brushing the woods their harmless loads to get
& gipseys camps in some snug shelterd nook
Were old lane hedges like the pasture brook
Run crooking as they will by wood & dell
In such lone spots these wild wood roamers dwell
On commons were no farmers claims appear
Nor tyrant justice rides to interfere
Such the abodes neath hedge or spreading oak
& but discovered by its curling smoak
Puffing & peeping up as wills the breeze
Between the branches of the colord trees
Such are the pictures that october yields
To please the poet as he walks the fields
While nature like fair woman in decay
Which pale consumption hourly wastes away
Upon her waining features pale & chill
Wears dreams of beauty that seem lovely still
Among the heath furze still delights to dwell
Quaking as if with cold the harvest bell
The mushroom buttons each moist morning brings
Like spots of snow in the green tawney rings
& fuzz balls swelld like bladders in the grass
Which oft the merry laughing milking lass
Will stoop to gather in her sportive airs
& slive in mimickd fondness unawares
To smut the brown cheek of the teazing swain
With the black powder which their balls contain
Who feigns offence at first that love may speed
Then claims a kiss to recompence the deed
The singing maid in fancy ever gay
Loitering along the mornings dripping way
With wicker basket swinging on her arm
Searching the hedges of home close or farms
Where brashy eldern trees to autumn fade
Wild shines each hedge in autumns gay parade
The glossy berrys picturesquely weaves
Their swathy bunches mid the yellow leaves
Where the pert sparrow stains his little bill
& tutling robin picks his meals at will
Black ripening to the wan suns misty ray
Here the industr[i]ous hus wives wend their way
Pulling the brittle branches carefull down
& hawking loads of berrys to the town
While village dames as they get ripe & fine
Repair to pluck them for their " eldern wine "
That bottld up becomes a rousing charm
To kindle winters icy bosom warm
That wi its merry partner nut brown beer
Makes up the peasants christmass keeping cheer

The flying clouds urged on in swiftest pace
Like living things as if they runned a race
The winds that oer each coming tempest broods
Waking like spirits in their startling moods
Fluttering the sear leaves on the blackning lea
That litters under every fading tree
& pausing oft as falls the patting rain
Then gathering strength & twirling them again

The startld stockdove hurried wizzing bye
As the still hawk hangs oer him in the sky
Crows from the oak trees quawking as they spring
Dashing the acorns down wi beating wing
Waking the woodlands sleep in noises low
Patting the crimpt brakes withering brown below
The starnel crowds that dim the muddy light
& puddock circling round its lazy flight
Round the wild sweeing wood in motion slow
Before it perches on the oaks below
& hugh black beetles revelling alone
In the dull evening with their heavy drone
Buzzing from barn door straw & hovel sides
Were fodderd cattle from the night abides
These pictures linger thro the shortning day
& cheer the lone bards mellancholy way