Poems (Kimball)/The Crickets
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!