Shown by their outlines drawn against the hills,
Chimneys and roofs, trees, single and in groups,
Bright curves of brooks, and vanishing mountain-top
Expand upon my sight, October’s brush
The scene has color’d; not with those broad hues
Mix’d in his later pallet by the frost,
And dash’d upon the picture till the eye
Aches with varied splendor, but in tints
Left by light, scatter’d touches. Overhead
There is a blending of cloud, haze, and sky,