I love to see that strip of gold

On mellow-orchard tree,

On bending bough, and fading leaf

That flutters to the lea.

I love to see those sailing clouds,

That float at peaceful ease,

That skim and swim a sea of blue,

A sky of silent peace.

I love to hear the tinkling brook

Sing past upon its way,

And make a lulling tranquil song,

On sombre Autumn day.

I love to wake in early morn

And see the weeping ash,

And watch its crystal tears fall down,

A little sparkling splash.

When day’s last ray of gold is gone

And sweetly sinks to rest,

The blackbird’s song I love to hear,

For then he tunes his best.

The pine-tree stately in the dark,

His whispering song I hear.

With arms outflung he softly tells

When creeping night draws near.

Bertie Robinson Age 13

Tullygrawley School

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