Poems (Kimball)/The Crickets

by Harriet McEwen Kimball

THE CRICKETS.

PIPE, little minstrels of the waning year,
    In gentle concert pipe!
Pipe the warm noons; the mellow harvest near;
    The apples dropping ripe;

The tempered sunshine and the softened shade;
    The trill of lonely bird;
The sweet sad hush on Nature's gladness laid;
    The sounds through silence heard!

Pipe tenderly the passing of the year;
    The summer's brief reprieve;
The dry husk rustling round the yellow ear;
    The chill of dawn and eve!

Pipe the untroubled trouble of the year
    Pipe low the painless pain;
Pipe your unceasing melancholy cheer;
    The year is in the wane!