Nimrod in September

 When half the drowsy world’s a-bed 
And misty morning rises red, 
With jollity of horn and lusty cheer, 
Young Nimrod urges on his dwindling rout; 
Along the yellowing coverts we can hear
His horse’s hoofs thud hither and about: 
In mulberry coat he rides and makes 
Huge clamour in the sultry brakes.

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