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I SAW the maiden Autumn come—
A red leaf in her hair.
And timbrels in her hands to thrum
A wild and prankish air.
Her eyes were starry-bright as dew
Upon a verdant mere,
Her crimson slippers twinkled new
A down the graying year.
Her lips were carmine, cupid-bowed,
And seeming, made to kiss—
If one but knew the proper code
To woo the madcap miss!
And all in flaring colors, she
Bowed mocking to the breeze,
And sang a hoiden's song to me,
And romped the silvered leas.
I saw the maiden Autumn come—
A gipsy lass, and fair.
With timbrels in her hands to thrum—
A red leaf in her hair.
—Stacy E. Baker.
Western, Field. Western Field - Sportsmans Magazine of the West. San Francisco: Western Field, 1907.
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