I was reading The Alpine Path: The Story of My Career which is something of an autobiography of L.M. Montgomery. This poem was the first one she wrote at age 9.Autumn Now Autumn comes ripe with the peech and pear, The sportsman's horn is heard throughout the land, And the poor partridge fluttering falls dead. An Address to a Buttercup Buttercup, flower of the yellow dye, I see thy cheerful face Greeting and nodding everywhere Careless of time and place. In boggy field or public road Or cultured garden's pale You sport your petals satin-soft, And down within the vale. You cast your loveliness around Where'er you chance to be, And you shall always, buttercup, Be a flower dear to me. Lines Adressed to a blue-eyed-grass flower gathered in the Old Orchard Sweet little flower thy modest face Is ever lifted tords the sky And a reflexshun of its face Is caught within thine own blue eye. The meadow queens are tall and fair The columbines are lovely too But the poor talent I possess Shall laurel thee my flower of blue. First Snow Along the snow the sunbeams glide Earth is a peerless, gleaming bride, Dripping with diamonds, clad in traling white, No bride was ever half so fair and bright. Come unto these yellow sands, Curtseyed when we have and kissed, The wild winds whist, Foot it featly here and there And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.
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