 | Nature-notes and impressions in prose and verse |  |
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[Yesterday among the beeches, to-day among the oaks]
Yesterday among the beeches, to-day among the oaks:Those with their emerald and gold,
Their amber golds and grays,
These with their blood-dark bronze,
Translucent, frosty reds:
The gold the Autumn dons,
The blood her sad heart sheds,
As slow she goes her ways;
Sheds at each step, that cloaks
Each pool that glimmers cold,
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'Mid the oaks, of whose russets and reds
Winds make their beds,
Bowing their withered heads,
That are old, so old,
Where the Autumn cons,
In her golds and grays,
Her Book of Days.
| Nature-notes and impressions in prose and verse | |