Classic Poem

The long-lighted days begin to shrink,
And flowers are thin in mead, among
The late-shooting grass, that shines along
Brook upon brook, and brink by brink.

The wheat that was lately rustling thick,
Is now up in mows that still are new;
All yellow before the sky of blue,
Tip after tip, and rick by rick.

No starlings arise in flock on wing;
The cuckoo has still'd his woodland sound;
The swallow no longer wheels around,
Dip after dip, and swing by swing.

While shooters are roving round the knoll
By wind-driven leaves on quiv'ring grass;
Or down where the sky-blue waters pass,
Fall after fall, and shoal by shoal;

Their brown-dappled pointers nimbly trot
By russet-bough'd trees, while gun-smoke grey
Dissolves in the air of sunny day,
Reef upon reef, at shot by shot.

While now I can walk a dusty mile,
I'll take me a day, while days are clear,
To find a few friends that still are dear,
Face upon face, and smile by smile.