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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