The wild wood music from the lonely dell,
Where merry Gipseys o'er their raptures dwell,
Haunting each common's wild and lonely nook,
Where hedges run as crooked as the brook,
Shielding their camps beneath some spreading oak,
And but discovered by the curling smoke
Puffing, and peeping up, as wills the breeze,
Between the branches of the coloured trees: —
Such are the pictures that October yields,
To please the poet as he walks the fields ...
John Clare, from "October"
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