Do the boys and girls still go to Siever's <br />For cider, after school, in late September? <br />Or gather hazel nuts among the thickets <br />On Aaron Hatfield's farm when the frosts begin? <br />For many times with the laughing girls and boys <br />Played I along the road and over the hills <br />When the sun was low and the air was cool, <br />Stopping to club the walnut tree <br />Standing leafless against a flaming west. <br />Now, the smell of the autumn smoke, <br />And the dropping acorns, <br />And the echoes about the vales <br />Bring dreams of life. They hover over me. <br />They question me: <br />Where are those laughing comrades? <br />How many are with me, how many <br />In the old orchards along the way to Siever's, <br />And in the woods that overlook <br />The quiet water?<br /><br />Edgar Lee Masters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hare-drummer/
