"Some day this winter when you are taking a walk you may see them on the ground under chestnut and beech trees, and in old pastures where the red sumach berries are the only bright things left above the snow.

The trees had gone, and the only cover was the long grass and the low sumach bushes.

INDIAN SUMMER VILLANELLE HERBERT S. UNDERWOOD '83 When the forest flames in crimson and gold, While the sinking sun seems a molten mass, And a beautiful blaze is all the wold, The sumach flashes, a banner unrolled, And yellow-clad boughs glow like burnished brass, When the forest flames in crimson and gold.

Without the wall a birch-tree shows Its drooped and tasselled head; Within, a stag-horned sumach grows, Fern-leafed with spikes of red.