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ID you ever, in September, with a bunch of friends along, Harness up the trusty auto, that it sing its purring song In its glide dong the turnpike--not a shadow in the sky? If you pardon my abruptness, let me answer, so have I. Did you find the road quite charming, every cubit of the way? Did it seem akin to summer, though in autumn, as they say? Did it seem the group was younger, and that school was out for noon, And that all the world was posing, as " the lady in the moon"? Did the hills that came so gently, down the incline to the stream There permit the merry-makers, of the fairy tales to dream? Did their fancy fondly picture--"fairy forms" upon the lawn, Weaving maypoles quite to heaven, with the ribbons of a song? Did the auto as a major, cheer you on along the way, Puffing up the grades, as jolly as a teacher's Saturday? Not a thing in mathematics, to disturb the autumn gown Of the pleasure-seeking party, for a spin outside of town; If a pebble in the roadway lifted up its dusty head; Auto gently danced upon it, till it sought its little bed- When no doubt in meditation, to itself it sang a lay In accord with merry-makers, on the charming autumn day. If the crickets made sweet music, with their fiddle and a bow, Nature smiled at e'en the rag-time that the "hoppers" seemed to know; And the katydids--peculiar "Katies" are, we sometimes find-- Joined the "hop" of old cotillion, cordial as the other kind. |