—Ah me! ’twas years ago the birds
Fled swift o’er that far golden tree;
And wherefore now come back these words,
“Prepare for death, and follow me”?
IN LATE SEPTEMBER
Among the hardy marigolds
The spicy gillyflower unfolds,
And in the elm a catbird scolds
With saucy, outspread wings;
To mellow sweets the pippins speed,