Bright and beautiful art thou,
Autumn flowers crown thy brow:
Golden-rod and aster blue,
Russet leaf with crimson hue.
Half-stripped branches waving by,
Softly as a lullaby,
Tell of summer's days gone by,
Tell that winter's very nigh.
In the forest cool and chill,
Sadly moans the whippoorwill,
(Not as in the summer days,
When he gloried in his lays) --
Lower toned, but sweet and clear,
Like thy crisp and fragrant air,
Warbling forth with voice sublime.
This is nature's harvest time.
Crickets chirp amid the leaves;
Squirrels hop among the trees;
Brown nuts falling thick and fast,
On the dewy, dying grass;
Glowing sun with softer rays,
Harbinger of wintry days,
Tell the year is going by,
Sighing forth its lullaby.
` Mary Weston Fordham
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