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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!