WHEN NUTS ARE RIPE by Good Housekeeper

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Dec 5, 1892

WHEN NUTS ARE RIPE.

By Good Housekeeper

THE frost king comes by stealth at night, Painting the leaves in colors bright. With magic wand, in impish glee, He breathes upon each shrub and tree; O'er hickory, walnut, and the oak, He sheds a variegated cloak, And as they ope' their sleepy eyes, His breath comes thick from chilly skies.

The morning sun, in mild reproof, Sweeps from the fences and the roof The crystal footsteps of that raid; He smiles upon each leaf and blade, And welcomes to his genial rays The friendship of a mystic haze, While voices through the hill and dell Echo clear as silver bell.

Glad, golden days! O mystic haze, And all the swelling symphonies Of ringing shout and childish mirth, The brown nuts pattering to the earth, The scolding of a saucy jay— Ah, glories of an autumn day, Of earthly paradise a type,— The frost-crowned woods, when nuts are ripe! —Good Housekeeper.