by Edna Jaques
The old house stands, wrapped in the kindly dark.
The barns are dim against the morning haze.
A little spring-fed brook goes gaily by,
And o'er it all the peace of autumn lays
A lovely cloak as if she feared the chill
That creeps at nightfall o'er the pasture hill.
The air at dawning has a frosty tinge,
But noonday finds the world serene and blue
as if the lovely summer lingered on,
Loath to be gone from the dear fields she knew...
The cottage on the hill, the maple's glow,
The sunny hollow where wild asters grow.
The little animals of field and wood
Have gathered all their precious winter stores
And hidden them away for future use.
Across the scene the autumn sunlight pours
A golden flood of beauty bright and gay,
Ere winter comes to chase their joy away.
And over all the autumn world there lies
The blue reflected glory of the skies.