Poplar In Autumn.

Outside my window, through the grime
Of city smokes that curl and climb,
There is a shining reed of light
As graceful as a bird in flight;
There is a sudden flash of gold
Like fading tints on dead leaf-mould;
Or glimmer of green athwart the sky
As a gipsy breeze goes gaily by …
O! shining poplar tree so tall
That grows outside my office wall,
I thank you for the magic way
Your beauty charms my cares away.

—Mary Kitching.