114
POEMS BY CLARA A. MERRILL
REMINISCENCE
Tonight, of the Past I am thinking—
Of one of the Autumn's bright days
When the beautiful hills of old Hartford
Were covered with October haze,—
When the leaves, all russet and golden
Came rustling down, and the breeze
Seemed bent upon mischief, dispelling
The radiant garb of the trees.
Of one of the Autumn's bright days
When the beautiful hills of old Hartford
Were covered with October haze,—
When the leaves, all russet and golden
Came rustling down, and the breeze
Seemed bent upon mischief, dispelling
The radiant garb of the trees.
Where the Oak and the Elm stand, defying
The wrath of the tempest's fierce blast—
Through the thicket, where warble the wild-birds
And the chipmunk goes scurrying past.—
To the brilliant-hued, picturesque landscape
No color could artist e'er lend
On this day, when o'er hill and thro' valley
I wandered in search of a friend.
The wrath of the tempest's fierce blast—
Through the thicket, where warble the wild-birds
And the chipmunk goes scurrying past.—
To the brilliant-hued, picturesque landscape
No color could artist e'er lend
On this day, when o'er hill and thro' valley
I wandered in search of a friend.
In search of a dear loved one, dwelling
In a quiet, surburban retreat—
The friend whose kind manner e'er charmed me—
Whom I long had been hoping to greet.
In a quiet, surburban retreat—
The friend whose kind manner e'er charmed me—
Whom I long had been hoping to greet.
