An altered look about the hills

An altered look about the hills—

A Tyrian light the village fills—

A wider sunrise in the morn—

A deeper twilight on the lawn—

A print of a vermilion foot—

A purple finger on the slope—

A flippant fly upon the pane—

A spider at his trade again—

An added strut in Chanticleer—

A flower expected everywhere—

An axe shrill singing in the woods—

Fern odors on untraveled roads—

All this and more I cannot tell—

A furtive look you know as well—

And Nicodemus’ Mystery

Receives its annual reply!