Flung in the thin wind's fangy face,
Thou, in red, woolly tassels proud
Of bannered maples, flutest loud:
"Her Grace! her Grace! her Grace!"
III.
"Her Grace! her Grace! her Grace!"
Climbs beautiful and sunny-browed
Up, up the kindling hills and wakes
Blue berries in the berry brakes;
With fragrant flakes, that blow and bleach,