Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/251

 AUTUMN

leafy winds are blowing cold,

And South by West the sun goes down,

A quiet huddles up the fold

In sheltered corners of the brown.

Like scattered fire the wild fruit strews

The ground beneath the blowing tree,

And there the busy squirrel hews

His deep and secret granary.

And when the night comes starry clear,

The lonely quail complains beside

The glistening waters on the mere

Where widowed Beauties yet abide.

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