A Ball of fire shoots through the tamarack
In scarlet splendor, on voluptuous wings;
Delirious joy the pyrotechnist brings,
Who marks for us high summer’s almanac.
How instantly the red-coat hurtles back!
No fiercer flame has flashed beneath the sky....
Joel Benton
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When the feud of hot and cold
Leaves the autumn woodlands bare;
When the year is getting old,
And flowers are dead, and keen the air;When the crow has new concern,
And early sounds his raucous note;
And—where the late witch-hazels... -
A ball of fire shoots through the tamarack
In scarlet splendor, on voluptuous wings;
Delirious joy the pyrotechnist brings,
Who marks for us high summer’s almanac.
How instantly the red-coat hurtles back!
No fiercer flame has flashed beneath the sky.... -
His cherished woods are mute. The stream glides down
The hill as when I knew it years ago;
The dark, pine arbor with its priestly gown
Stands hushed, as if our grief it still would show;
The silver springs are cupless, and the flow
Of friendly feet no more...