. San Nicola [numero]. annuncio, l'autunno woodlandsshine. Oh, affrettatevi! Non posso aspettare a lungo! Vieni su, vecchia miniera chumo ! Per ogni foglia e la vigna è schizzato con colorante gaudycrimson. E attraverso i brividi, ondeggiando pini una chiassosa vento che soffia da.contro la quercia bronzo e oro il sumac ostenta la sua fiamma,mentre arroccato sopra, in impertinente nonostante, il blue-jay urla la sua colpa di scoiattoli e chipmunks sul terreno : gay e muschi luminoso creepOer caduti dei registri e indossato vecchi sentieri e pendii accidentati e ripide. Dove wintergrecn e sassofrasso e pernici-berriesgrow. E fino al di sopra dei venti blo

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. St. Nicholas [serial]. ad, the autumn woodlandsshine. Oh, hurry up! I cant wait long! Come on, old chumo mine ! For every leaf and vine is splashed with gaudycrimson dye. And through the shivering, swaying pines a boisterous wind sweeps by.Against the oak-trees bronze and gold the sumac flaunts its flame, While perched above, in saucy spite, the blue-jay screams his blame Of squirrels and chipmunks on the ground : and gay bright mosses creepOer fallen logs, and worn old paths, and hillsides rough and steep. Where wintergrecn and sassafras and partridge-berriesgrow. And up on top the winds blow strong, —and blow, and blow, and blow !And every rustling calls you on, and every twig-snap thrills— Oh, hurry up, old chum o mine ! Let s go and climbthe hills! 86 ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE [Nov., THE AUTUMN HILLS IN CALIFORNIA BY MARY S. BENSON (aGE 12) (Gold Badge. Silver Badge won February, 1915)We have not the brilliant gloryThat adorns the Eastern fall;Not for us the scarlet forests, Nor the song-birds farewell call.. a heading FOK NOVEMBER. BY EDWARD L. PALMER, AGE I7.(SILVER BADGE.) But we have the bright green hillslopes, Where the birds sing all the day ; Where doth grow the scarlet holly ;Where the spotted fawn doth play ; Where the shining green of summer Hath not faded from the trees;Where no signs of coming winter Are brought by the gentle breeze. Where, although the months go by us. Still there is a changeless scene ;For the Eastern glory fadeth, But our hills are always green ! WHAT MIGHT HAVE HAPPENED—AND WHAT HAPPENED! BY EMMA C. JACOBS (AGE Ij) (Silver Badge)A MURMUR of excitement filled the school-room theFriday before Thanksgiving, for the school principalhad just announced that he would present a five-dollargold-piece to the boy who would compose and deliver essay forgotten, the would-beEach day the dream was elabo- best-intentioned, but laziest boy in town. As he walkedhome from school, a wonderful picture formed in hismind. He saw the school-room crowded

Parole chiave associate all'immagine

• bookauthordodgemar
• bookcentury1800
• bookdecade1870
• bookyear1873