O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts not averse to being beguiled, Beguile us in the way you know. Release one leaf at break of day; At noon release another leaf; One from our trees, one far away. Retard the sun with gentle mist; Enchant the land with amethyst. Slow, slow! For the grapes' sake, if they were all, Whose leaves already are burnt with frost, Whose clustered fruit must else be lost -- For the grapes' sake along the wall.
Sunning on the shore, As in days of yore When the ancient beast Stood its ground to feast, Waiting for one to crawl Near its gaping maw... Then, SNAP! CRUNCH! - Crunch - crunch...
The modest Rose puts forth a thorn, The humble Sheep a threat’ning horn; While the Lilly white shall in Love delight, Nor a thorn, nor a threat, stain her beauty bright.
