Heart of autumn!
Weather meet,
Like to sherbert
Cool and sweet.

Stock-still I stand,
And him I see
Prying, peeping
From Beech-tree;
Crickling, crackling
Gleefully!
But, affrighted
By wee sound,
Presto! vanish —
Whither bound?

So did Baby,
Crowing mirth
E'en as startled,
By some inkling
Touching Earth,
Flit (and whither?)
From our hearth!