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Songs
of the Common Day, and Ave!
An
Ode for the Shelley Centenary
by
Charles G.D. Roberts
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THE
PUMPKINS IN THE CORN
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AMBER
and blue, the smoke behind the hill,
Where in the glow
fades out the Morning Star,
Curtains the Autumn
cornfield, sloped afar,
And strikes an acrid savour on the chill.
The hilltop fence shines saffron o'er the still
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Unbending ranks
of bunched and bleaching corn
And every pallid
stalk is crisp with morn,
Crisp with the silver Autumn morn's distil.
Purple
the narrowing alleys stretched between
The spectral shooks,
a purple harsh and cold, |
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But
spotted, where the gadding pumpkins run,
With bursts of blaze that startle the serene
Like sudden voices,—globes
of orange bold,
Elate to mimic the
unrisen sun. |
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