A PALL of blue-black cloud that darkens all the wold,
A dense wall in the east, and stretching far
Beyond the zenith. 'Neath it autumn winds blow
cold,

And birds sit silent, waiting for the war

Of elements. Then suddenly the sun gleams out
Low down the west, suffusing all with light;

In one sweet burst of song the birds exultant shout,
And fairy beauty greets our dazzled sight.

Each leaf of yellow, red, or brown is turned to gold,
And scattered ivy gleams like emerald.

As metal pieces fall, the leaves drop on the wold,

And waving rods of fire to heaven are held,

As branches catch the light against the awful gloom. The cloud drops lower still then falls the dark of doom.

THE END.

N

BECCLES:

PRINTED BY WILLIAM MOORE AND CO.,

CAXTON WORKS.

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