  T HE autumn nights began to fill The mind with thoughts of winter chill, When Brownies in an orchard met, Where ripened fruit was hanging yet. Said one, "The apples here, indeed, Must now be mellow to the seed; And, ere another night, should be Removed at once from every tree. For any evening now may call The frost to nip and ruin all." Another quickly answer made: "This man is scarcely worthy aid; 'Tis said his harsh and cruel sway Has turned his children's love away. If frost should paint his orchard white." "It matters not who owns the place, Or why neglect thus shows its face," A third replied; "the fact is clear That fruit should hang no longer here. If worthy people here reside Then will our hands be well applied; And if unworthy folks we serve, Still better notice we'll deserve." "You speak our minds so full and fair," One loudly cried, "that speech we'll spare. But like the buttons on your back, We'll follow closely in your track, And do our part with willing hand, Without one doubting if or and." Kind deeds the Brownies often do Unknown to me as well as you; The wounded hare, by hunters maimed, Is sheltered and supplied and tamed. The straying cat they sometimes find Half-starved, and chased by dogs unkind, And bring it home from many fears To those who mourned its loss with tears. And to the bird so young and bare, With wings unfit to fan the air, That preying owls had thought to rend The Brownie often proves a friend. Then bags and baskets were brought out From barns and buildings round about, With kettles, pans, and wooden-ware, That prying eyes discovered there; Nay, even blankets from the beds, The pillow-slips, and table-spreads Were in some manner brought to light To render service through the night. If there's a place where Brownies feel At home with either hand or heel, And seem from all restrictions free, That place is in a branching tree. At times, with balance fair and fine They held their stations in a line; At times, in rivalry and pride To outer twigs they scattered wide; And oft with one united strain They shook the tree with might and main, Till, swaying wildly to and fro, It rocked upon the roots below. So skilled at climbing were they all The sum of accidents was small: Some hats were crushed, some heads were sore, Some backs were blue, ere work was o'er; For hands will slip and feet will slide, And boughs will break and forks divide, And hours that promise sport sublime May introduce a limping time. So some who clambered up the tree With ready use of hand and knee, Found other ways they could descend Than by the trunk, you may depend. The startled birds of night came out And watched them as they moved about; Concluding thieves were out in force They cawed around the place till hoarse. But birds, like people, should be slow To judge before the facts they know; For neither tramps nor thieves were here, But Brownies, honest and sincere, Who worked like mad to strip the trees Before they felt the morning breeze. And well they gauged their task and time, For ere the sun commenced to prime The sky with faintest tinge of red The Brownies from the orchard fled, While all the fruit was laid with care Beyond the reach of nipping air. |
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