Rhymes of Old Plimouth

by Herbert Randall

HYMN ANCESTRAL.

O, the glory of the Autumn

On the old New England hills,

When the summer-leaf is dying in its pride;

O, the song of wine and wonder

Where the wild grape’s udder fills;

O, the hymn of homage where the gentians hide.

O, the dream enchanted woodlands;

O, the spell that’s on the seas,

And the cricket’s lovesick murmur of repose;