Page:The Seaside and the Fireside.djvu/95
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73
Pegasus in Pound.
Once into a quiet village,
Without haste and without heed,
In the golden prime of morning,
Strayed the poet's winged steed.
Without haste and without heed,
In the golden prime of morning,
Strayed the poet's winged steed.
It was Autumn, and incessant
Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves,
And, like living coals, the apples
Burned among the withering leaves.
Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves,
And, like living coals, the apples
Burned among the withering leaves.