AUTUMN'S WORK. 



AND now comes Autumn—artist bold and free 

Exceeding rich in brightest tints that be—

And with a skill that tells of power divine 

Paints a vast landscape wonderfully fine. 

Over the chestnut, cloth of gold he throws, 

Turns the ash purple, cheers with scarlet glows 

The lonely sumac, that erewhile was seen 

Clad in dull foliage of a summer green; 

Where daisies bloomed gives golden-rod instead, 

Stains every oak leaf with the darkest red, 

Sets all the woodbine's waving sprays on fire, 

And leaves them flaming from the cedar's spire; 

And clust'ring berries hangs he here and there, 

Some like the rubies, some as round and fair 

As pearls, some blue as sapphires, some as brown 

As the fast-fading leaves that rustle down 

Beneath the trees that gave them life, to die, 

Or else away with roving winds to fly. 

And when at last all's finished—hill and dale, 

Wildwood and field—he drops a misty veil 

Over the picture, and a few glad days 

The world looks on with wonder and with praise, 

Till faint and fainter all the colors grow, 

And Winter hides it underneath the snow. 





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