gorgeous sunsets, and cold misty dawns that heralded bright days.
The woods were in all their pomp; the poplars yellow as guinea-gold; the ashes, in their wondrous mingling of fawn-colour and purple and brown and crimson, the most glorious of all autumn foliage; the oaks resisted change sternly for awhile, and then transformed themselves suddenly into masses of amber and of bronze; the bays were black with fruit; the pines knobbed with ripe cones; the maple was a glow of scarlet; the osmunda and the hart's-tongue were like great flames of fire, on the ground.
The huge white clouds that wise men call cirri-cumuli swept grandly over the blue sky, and gathered in masses westward as the sun went down. The air was strong and full of exhilaration; the pungent odours of the wood-smoke rolled down the mountain sides. Last of all the flowers, the pretty canary-coloured dragon's-mouth was in blossom in all green places. It was a season in which, despite the added perils that came with it, only to breathe and move seemed joy enough to Musa; the earth and air around her were so gorgeous, so clear, so radiant, so healthful.
