IV.
Tipsiness
The wine-red sedges stain the rolling hills
A spreading, dusky crimson; and the winds
That frolic there, go reeling forth among
The sober apple orchards; which, grown gray,
Spill down their jolly fruit, until the fields
Are cidery; and buxom mother earth
Sways, tipsy with the fullness of the year.
A spreading, dusky crimson; and the winds
That frolic there, go reeling forth among
The sober apple orchards; which, grown gray,
Spill down their jolly fruit, until the fields
Are cidery; and buxom mother earth
Sways, tipsy with the fullness of the year.
96
