Magpie cursed, flew right over me and
Threw her shadow for me to cross
The sun was almost as warm as summer
But had bronzed the leaves that lay on the grass
The guelder had dropped its honey-hued berries
Breeze dislodged beech mast that clicked on the pavement
And the sun sank so early that evening and lit
The sycamores in their reddening raiment.