Page:The Seaside and the Fireside.djvu/95

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73

Pegasus in Pound.



Once into a quiet village, Without haste and without heed,In the golden prime of morning, Strayed the poet's winged steed.
It was Autumn, and incessant Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves,And, like living coals, the apples Burned among the withering leaves.
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