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Show AUTUMN ON THE HALF SHELL. As usual, the leaves are brown. And all the meads are yellow. The mossy boughs are bending down With apples red and mellow. Along the winding orchard wall The breezes bear the thistle, And round the wayside buttonball The quail begins to whistle. A breezy curtain blurs the Bky And makes it 6ad and murky. And now we dream of pumpkin pie And contemplate the turkey. There is a pathos in the air, A pathos sweet and tender, That fills the iceman with despair And charms the chestnut vender. The land Is purple with the grape And with the cornstalk tawny, Which sets the small boy all agape And grinning like a Pawnee. The popcorn's popping with a pop That's musical and pleasant. And luscious is the lush porkchop And lush the upland pleasant. Oh, season of the cloth of gold, When all is sweet and stilly, And blooming in the ashen wold Is neither roso nor lily; O Eeason calm, whoso blooming star Is e'er the lilac gentian. Indeed your subtle beauties are Too numerous to mention! R. K. Munkittrick in Puck. |