 | [Poems by Larcom in] Beckonings For Every Day |  |
AUTUMN.
A woman, moving up the orchard-slope
With even gait, and steady, seeking eyes.
Autumn, that ripens all things, ripens hope;
Trees bear fruit every month, in Paradise.
With even gait, and steady, seeking eyes.
Autumn, that ripens all things, ripens hope;
Trees bear fruit every month, in Paradise.
September, standing on her golden round
Of the year's ladder, mid her vintage-leaves,
Hears through her harvest-fields a wail resound;—
Her starving sisters begging for her sheaves.
Of the year's ladder, mid her vintage-leaves,
Hears through her harvest-fields a wail resound;—
Her starving sisters begging for her sheaves.
Autumn did but enrich herself to give;
And, scattering blessings, see her now depart,
Whispering that on life's hills 't was sweet to live,
While Indian Summer sunshine warmed her heart!
And, scattering blessings, see her now depart,
Whispering that on life's hills 't was sweet to live,
While Indian Summer sunshine warmed her heart!
| [Poems by Larcom in] Beckonings For Every Day | |