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What means this scampering bustling move?
Why are the tents brought low and folded?
Why have the guests now ceased to rove,
No more with climbing thirst emboldened?


Why comes the deer now near the plain?
And chipmunks, squirrels, woodchucks race
A morsel here and there to gain,
And safely in their storehouse place?


The chirping birds now flit about,
And look for seeds to fill their nest;
For well they know that all without
Grand nature soon will go to rest.


The shrubs and forest too have changed
From emerald green to brighter hue,
And in their beauty so arranged,
As to invite our praise anew.


But hark! the sounding bugle blast
Now calls from yonder mountain peak,
That winter's snow has overcast
In wildest beauty, cold and bleak.


Thus stands Mount Shasta on his throne,
Majestically sends forth a call
To all within his frigid zone
That soon white snow will cover all.