Page:Poems by Frances Fuller Victor.djvu/109

 AUTUMNALIA.

The crimson color lays

As bright as beauty's blush along the West,

And a warm golden haze,

Promising sheafs of ripe autumnal days

To crown the old year's crest,

Hangs in mid air, a half-pellucid maze,

Through which the sun at set,

Grown round and rosy, looks with Bacchian blush,

For an old wine-god meet,

Whose brows are dripping with the grape-blood sweet,

As if his southern flush

Rejoiced him, in his northern-zoned retreat.

The amber-colored air

Musical is with hum of tiny things

Held idly struggling there,

As if the golden mists entangled were

About the viewless wings,

That beat out music on their gilded snare.

If but a leaf, all gay

With Autumn's gorgeous coloring, doth fall,

Along its fluttering way

A shrill alarum wakes a sharp dismay,

And, answering to the call,

The insect chorus swells and dies away

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