Dog Days, I wish my love Would come and live with me, Beneath a tented tree, The lush catalpa that in summer flowers, Sol, I could laugh at thee! If dalliance and sweet kisses sped the hours. Autumn Portents. The amber foam creams from the cider flagons, Backward the shadow of the ground-hog shrinks, The lanes creak with the laden harvest wagons, And the fur thickens on the owl-eyed lynx, The hunter sees cold mist about the moon, And in the bottom lands at morn, The print of tiny, thievish, fairy hands Where the raccoon last night went stealing corn. Autumn Invocation. "The seasons wait their turn among the stars." Come from the blinding sun fields where you are, Come from the interspace of star and star, Summer lies sleeping in her dusty tomb, The owlets mourn her through the woodland's gloom Where all the night birds are. _Autumn, come down!_ Into the columned forests cast your torches, Light all their shadowed aisles like temple porches, Stop at the Dog Star first and snatch his fire, Bold sun-hot yellow and the red that scorches To light dead summer's funeral pyre. _Autumn, come down!_ Lean down, High Lady, from your starry arch, Over the maples and the fragrant larch, Stoop down some frosty night, Like a proud maiden from an old, walled town Tossing a rainbow favor to her knight. _Lean down, lean down!_ Come take our northern forests for your palace, Dance in the witch fires of the borealis, Stand misty-eyed upon the mountain tops Or sit and gaze, With wind-twitched cloak and merry, cast-back hood, Down valleys purpled by the grape-blue haze, Beside some flaming wood. Come throw your mad _flambeaux_ Till all the motley, fire-streaked woodlands glow! _Autumn, come down!_ Lady, how often must I ask it? Proud plenty, if you will, with vine-wreathed basket Shall bring you offerings of damasked plums-- For you in orchards mellow peaches plash All night. The lichens whiten on the lonely ash, The clover blackens and the last bee hums. _Autumn, come down,_ You brown-skinned sorceress, And witch the leaves, for harvest home, And bear the nodding sheaves Into the red barns by the little town, _Autumn, come down, come down!_ DREAM FRAGMENT. I walked last night in southern Brittany, In deep, warm meadows where the _rouge-gorge_ sang, A land cliff-bordered, by an azure sea, Far off, far down, the muffled buoy bells rang In bays that stretched into a land of indolence, It seemed the peasants, in a fit of folly, Had fled and left me in sweet impotence To range blue uplands, tinged with melancholy, In amethystine pastures, smooth and lone, Charmed by a tepid ocean's magic moan. WHEN SHADY AVENUE WAS SHADY LANE.