The Morris County Chronicle

"Oh, Pumpkin Pie."

From the Baltimore American.

Oh, pumpkin pie!

Athwart thy face

An hundred fancies may I trace!

I see the glint of summer sun,

And twilight when the day is done;

The sober peace of musing cows

Who in the meadow grasses browse;

The radiant glory of the morn

That sweeps across the nodding corn.

A thousand happy fancies start

When thou art nestling near my heart!

Oh, pumpkin pie!

I hear the breeze

That whispered in the maple trees;

I see the swaving fields of wheat.

And hear the birdsongs, clear and sweet;

And low across the land at night

I catch the ballad of delight—

The chant the cricket sings in lee,

And summer comes again to me!

Oh, pumpkin pie! Thus dost thou

cast

Thou joyous glamour o'er the past!

Oh, pumpkin pie!

Within thy breast

These gladsome summer fancies rest,

The golden sunshine and the dew

Have paid their tribute through and through;

The song the lark trilled in the air

Within thy form is echoed there;

And all these things of joy to me

Were caught and firmly held by thee,

Oh, pumpkin! Thanks for all thou didst!

I welcome thee unto my midst!