Like parting friends, who linger while they sever ; Enforced to go, yet seeming still unready. Backward they wind their way in many a wistful eddy.
Gray o'er my head the yellow- vested willow Hurtled its hoary top in the fresh breezes,
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Glancing in light, like spray on a green billow,
Or the fine frost work which young winter freezes, . When first his power in infant pastime trying, Congeals sad autumn's tears on the dead branches lying.
From rocks around hung the loose ivy dangling,
And in the clefts sumach of liveliest green. Bright ising-stars the little beach was spangling,
The gold-cap sorrel from his gauzy screen, Shone like a fairy, enchased and beaded. Left on some morn, when light fiash'd in their eyes unheeded.
The hum-bird shook his sun-touched wings around,
The bluefinch carolled in the still retreat ; ' - .
The antic squirrel capered on the ground, <■
Where lichens made a carpel for his feet.
Through the transparent waves, the ruddy minkle
Shot up in glimmering sparks, his red fins liny twinkle. . ,. '
There were the dark cedars, with loose mossy tresses, White-powder'd dog trees, and stiff hollies flaunting,
Gaudy as rustics in their May-day dresses. Blue pellorels from purple leases upslanting
A modest gaze, like eyes of a young maiden
Shining beneath dropp'd lids the evening of her wedding. .•/
The breeze fresh springing from the lips of morn, , '
Kissing the leaves, and sighing so to loose 'em,