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11/22/2009 4:44:21 PM

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It 's autumn in the country I remember.

How warm a wind blew here about the ways! 
And shadows on the hillside lay to slumber
During the long sun-sweetened summer-days.

It's cold abroad the country I remember.

The swallows veering skimmed the golden grain
At midday with a wing aslant and limber; 
And yellow cattle browsed upon the plain.

It 's empty down the country I remember.

I had a sister lovely in my sight: 
Her hair was dark, her eyes were very sombre; 
We sang together in the woods at night.

It 's lonely in the country I remember.

The babble of our children fills my ears, 
And on our hearth I stare the perished ember
To flames that show all starry thro' my tears.

It 's dark about the country I remember.

There are the mountains where I lived. The path
Is slushed with cattle-tracks and fallen timber, 
The stumps are twisted by the tempests' wrath.

But that I knew these places are my own, 
I 'd ask how came such wretchedness to cumber
The earth, and I to people it alone.

It rains across the country I remember.

Trumbull Stickney

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