first a rayless disk of fire,
He brightened as he sped;
Yet even his noontide glory
Fell chastened and subdued
On the cornfields and the orchards 15
And softly pictured wood.

And all that quiet afternoon,
Slow sloping to the night,
He wove with golden shuttle
The haze with yellow light; 20

Slanting through the painted beeches,
He glorified the hill;
And beneath it pond and meadow
Lay brighter, greener still.

And shouting boys in woodland haunts 5
Caught glimpses of that sky,
Flecked by many-tinted leaves,
And laughed, they knew not why;
And schoolgirls, gay with aster flowers,
Beside the meadow brooks, 10
Mingled the glow of autumn
With the sunshine of sweet looks.

From spire and barn, looked westerly
The patient weathercocks;
But even the birches on the hill 15
Stood motionless as rocks.
No sound was in the woodlands
Save the squirrel's dropping shell,
And the yellow leaves among the boughs,
Low rustling as they fell. 20

The summer grains were harvested;
The stubble fields lay dry,
Where June winds rolled, in light and shade,
The pale-green waves of rye;
But still on gentle hill slopes, 25
In valleys fringed with wood,
Ungathered, bleaching in the sun,
The heavy corn crop stood.

Bent low by autumn's wind and rain,
Through husks that, dry and sere,
Unfolded from their ripened charge,
Shone out the yellow ear;
Beneath, the turnip lay concealed 5
In many a verdant fold,
And glistened in the slanting light
The pumpkin's sphere of gold.

There wrought the busy harvesters;
And many a creaking wain 10
Bore slowly to the long barn floor
Its load of husk and grain;
Till, broad and red as when he rose,
The sun sank down at last,
And like a merry guest's farewell, 15
The day in brightness passed.

And lo! as through