Rust maces of an ouphen host that dreams;
Beneath the chestnut the split burry hulls
Disgorge fat purses of sleek satin gleams.
Burst silver white, nods an exploded husk
Of snowy, woolly smoke the milk-weed's puff
Along the orchard's fence, where in the dusk
And ashen weeds,—as some grim Satyr's rough
Red, breezy cheeks burn thro' his beard,—the brusque
Crab apples laugh, wind-tumbled from above.
Runs thro' the wasted leaves the crickets' click,