Autumn.

I wandered down a dusky way,
When shadows fell and sleepy day
Was dropping down behind the hill,
And drowsy breezes all were still.
And all along the path I trod
Brown leaves had covered up the sod,
And golden grass was bending down,
Where thistles plucked against my gown.
On either side, the silent trees
With knotted arms and twisted knees,
Were clad in crimson, gold and green;
Each tall and graceful like a queen
Who dons a robe of wondrous shades,
And wanders through enchanted glades.
I marvelled at the colours there,
For though the boughs were almost bare,
Each tree was decked in autumn gown,
And frail fine leaves were drifting down,
To form a carpet rich and deep,
Where flowers of all the seasons sleep.
The summer, winter and the spring,
With all the joys and hopes they bring,
Are beautiful; but autumn days,
With golden sun and leaf-strewn ways,
Are far more wonderful and fair,
With pale leaves drifting thro’ the air,
The dying flowers, the frosty dawns,
The sparkle of the dew-wet lawns.
And at the hour the sun goes down,
And earth has donned her shadow gown,
The last thrush calls, the first star peeps,
And all night long the pale moon keeps
Her watch upon the sleeping world,
Where tinted leaves are gently whirled
Down to the paths that I had trod,
Where ragged stems in silence nod.

Ruth M. Mumford.

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