Page:Poems Bushnell.djvu/72

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Autumn Voices

This afternoon, down at the brook,
A bright-eyed squirrel stopped and took
A dozen little drinks;
Some nuts were lying at my feet,
He looked as if he thought them sweet,
And gave some knowing winks.

Just then a little leaf quite brown
Into the brook came rustling down,
And sailed off like a ship;
The squirrel gave his tail a whisk,
Then made a funny sideways frisk,
And left me with a skip.

There's red and yellow, green and pink,
And purple too,—it makes me think
Of Joseph's little coat;
The wood is in a rainbow drest;
The hills are like a robin's breast,
Or like my pigeon's throat.

Such pretty colors everywhere!
Such pleasant feelings in the air!
I'm glad as glad can be.
Here, Rover, come, let's take a run,
And catch a good-night from the sun
Behind the maple tree.

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