Besides the Autumn poets sing,	
A few prosaic days	
A little this side of the snow	
And that side of the Haze -	
  
A few incisive mornings -	        
A few Ascetic eves -	
Gone - Mr Bryant's "Golden Rod" -	
And Mr Thomson's "sheaves."	
  
Still, is the bustle in the brook -	
Sealed are the spicy valves -	        
Mesmeric fingers softly touch	
The eyes of many Elves -	
  
Perhaps a squirrel may remain -	
My sentiments to share -
Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind -        
Thy windy will to bear!