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And all that quiet afternoon, slow sloping to the night,
He wove with golden shuttle the haze with yellow light;
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 caught glimpses of that sky,

Flecked by the many-tinted leaves, and laughed, they knew not why;

And school-girls, gay with aster-flowers, beside the meadow brooks,

Mingled the glow of autumn with the sunshine of sweet looks.

From spire and barn looked westerly the patient weather

cocks;

5

But even the birches on the hill stood motionless as rocks. 10 No sound was in the woodlands, save the squirrel's dropping

shell,

And the yellow leaves among the boughs, low rustling as

they fell.

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, in valleys fringed with wood, 15 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, 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

Bore slowly to the long barn-floor its load of husk and grain; 5 Till broad and red, as when he rose, the sun sank down, at last,

And like a merry guest's farewell, the day in brightness

passed.

And lo! as through the western pines, on meadow, stream, and pond,

Flamed the red radiance of a sky, set all afire beyond,

Slowly o'er the eastern sea-bluffs a milder glory shone, 10 And the sunset and the moonrise were mingled into one!

As thus into the quiet night the twilight lapsed away,
And deeper in the brightening moon the tranquil shadows

lay;

From many a brown old farm-house, and hamlet without

name,

Their milking and their home-tasks done, the merry huskers

came.

15 Swung o'er the heaped-up harvest, from pitchforks in the

mow,

Shone dimly down the lanterns on the pleasant scene below;

The growing pile of husks behind, the golden ears before, And laughing eyes and busy hands and brown cheeks glimmering o'er.

Half hidden, in a quiet nook, serene of look and heart,
Talking their old times over, the old men sat apart;
While up and down the unhusked pile, or nestling in its shade, 5
At hide-and-seek, with laugh and shout, the happy children
played.

Urged by the good host's daughter, a maiden young and fair, Lifting to light her sweet blue eyes and pride of soft brown

hair,

The master of the village school, sleek of hair and smooth

of tongue,

To the quaint tune of some old psalm, a husking-ballad sung.

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

HELPS TO STUDY

1. What other poem in this book has lines like this one? In which does the form seem more suitable to the subject? 2. What month is it? 3. The American autumn is richer in brilliant color than in most countries. What colors are in this landscape? 4. Where does the husking take place? 5. Have you ever known of any similar parties, where labor becomes pleasure?

For Study with the Glossary: Chastened, shuttle, verdant, radiance, lapsed.

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THE COURTIN'

God makes sech nights, all white an' still
Fur 'z you can look or listen,
Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill,
All silence an' all glisten.

Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown
An' peeked in thru' the winder,
An' there sot Huldy all alone,
'ith no one nigh to hender.

A fireplace filled the room's one side
With half a cord o' wood in-
There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died)
To bake ye to a puddin'.

The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out

Towards the pootiest, bless her,
An' leetle flames danced all about
The chiny on the dresser.

Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung,
And in amongst 'em rusted

The ole queen's-arm thet granther Young
Fetched back from Concord busted.

The very room, coz she was in,

Seemed warm from floor to ceilin',

An' she looked full ez rosy agin

Ez the apples she was peelin'.

5

10

1

'Twas kin' o' kingdom-come to look

On such a blessed cretur,

A dogrose blushin' to a brook
Ain't modester nor sweeter.

He was six foot o' man, A 1,

Clear grit an' human natur; None couldn't quicker pitch a ton Nor dror a furrer straighter.

He'd sparked it with full twenty gals,

Hed squired 'em, danced 'em, druv 'em,
Fust this one, and then that, by spells
All is, he couldn't love 'em.

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