The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Nutting Song

NUTTING SONG

The November sun invites me, And although the chill wind smites me, I will wander to the woodland Where the laden trees await; And with loud and joyful singing I will set the forest ringing, As if I were king of Autumn, And Dame Nature were my mate,—

While the squirrel in his gambols Fearless round about me ambles, As if he were bent on showing In my kingdom he'd a share; While my warm blood leaps and dashes, And my eye with freedom flashes, As my soul drinks deep and deeper Of the magic in the air.

There's a pleasure found in nutting, All life's cares and griefs outshutting, That is fuller far and better Than what prouder sports impart. Who could help a carol trilling As he sees the baskets filling? Why, the flow of song keeps running O'er the high walls of the heart.

So when I am home returning, When the sun is lowly burning, I will once more wake the echoes With a happy song of praise,— For the golden sunlight blessing, And the breezes' soft caressing, And the precious boon of living In the sweet November days.