By Ellen P Allerton
Day after day the blackbirds came
And perched in flocks on my hickory tree,
While the leaves, at flrst just touched with flame,
Grew golden, then brown as brown could be,
And still they came in a sable shower—
A flittering, chattering, noisy crowd—
And I wondered, watching them hour by hour,
What they said when they talked so loud.
Sadly the leaves fell, one by one,
Floating, fluttering slowly down—
Leaves so green in the summer sun,
Now so withered, and sere, and brown.
The tree grew bare: I watched one day
In vain—the blackbirds came no more;
And then I knew they had fled away,
And my sorrowful thought this burden bore:
The winds shall blow through my hickory-tree,
The sifting snow, and the sleety rain:
But, little I know what awaiteth me
Ere the leaves and the blackbirds come again!