It’s
autumn in the country I remember.
How
warm a wind blew here about the ways! And
shadows on the hillside lay to slumber During
the long sun-sweetened summer-days. It’s
cold abroad the country I remember. The
swallows veering skimmed the golden grain At
midday with wing aslant and limber; And
yellow cattle browsed upon the plain. It’s
empty down the country I remember. I
had a sister lovely in my sight: Her
hair was dark, her eyes were very somber; We
sang together in the woods at night. It’s
lonely in the country I remember. The
babble of our children fills my ears, And
on our hearth I stare the perished ember To
flames that show all starry thro’ my tears. It’s
dark about the country I remember. There
are the mountains where I lived. The path Is
slushed with cattle-tracks and fallen timber, The
stumps are twisted by the tempests’ wrath But
that I knew these places are my own, I’d
ask how came such wretchedness to cumber The
earth, and I to people it alone. It rains across the country I remember. |
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