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The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry, Of bugles going by. - William Bliss Carman, Vagabond Song That was a day of delight and wonder. While lying the shade of the maple trees under-- He felt the soft breeze at its frolicksome play; He smelled the sweet odor of newly mown hay. - Thomas Dunn English, Under the Trees I mark me how today the maples wear A look of inward burgeoning, and I feel Colours I see not in the naked air, Lance-keen, and with the little blue of steel. - Edward Joseph Harrington O'Brien, In Late Spring
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