It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day; the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tenderer kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet.... As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye... ranged with delight over the treasures of jolly autumn. ~Washington Irving, "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"
Friday, March 14, 2008
"No birds in spring", he says And thousands descend Into the yard As if in protest: Flooding my page With word droppings And feathered song.
"No birds in spring,", he says. What would the ears hear? Old crows take offense.