But nane sail ken where he is gane;
Ower his banes, when they are bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair!”
Anonymous, about 1600.
THE RED-BREAST IN SEPTEMBER.
The morning mist is clear’d away,
Yet still the face of heaven is gray,
Nor yet th’ autumnal breeze has stirr’d the grove,
Faded, yet full, a paler green
Skirts soberly the tranquil scene,