Rich Days by William Henry Davies
Welcome to you rich Autumn days, Ere comes the cold, leaf-picking wind; When golden stocks are seen in fields, All standing arm-in-arm entwined; And gallons of sweet cider seen On trees in apples red and green.
With mellow pears that cheat our teeth, Which melt that tongues may suck them in; With blue-black damsons, yellow plums, Now sweet and soft from stone to skin; And woodnuts rich, to make us go Into the loneliest lanes we know.
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