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| THE AUTUMN time is with us. Its approach | |
| Was heralded, not many days ago, | |
| By hazy skies that veiled the brazen sun, | |
| And sea-like murmurs from the rustling corn, | |
| And low-voiced brooks that wandered drowsily | 5 |
| By pendent clusters of empurpling grapes | |
| Swinging upon the vine. And now, ’t is here! | |
| And what a change hath passed upon the face | |
| Of nature, where the waving forest spreads, | |
| Then robed in deepest green! All through the night | 10 |
| The subtle frost has plied its magic art; | |
| And in the day the golden sun hath wrought | |
| True wonders; and the winds of morn and even | |
| Have touched with magic breath the changing leaves. | |
| And now, as wanders the dilating eye | 15 |
| Athwart the varied landscape, circling far, | |
| What gorgeousness, what blazonry, what pomp | |
| Of colors bursts upon the ravished sight! | |
| Here, where the poplar rears its yellow crest, | |
| A golden glory; yonder, where the oak | 20 |
| Stands monarch of the forest, and the ash | |
| Is girt with flame-like parasite, and broad | |
| The dogwood spreads beneath, and, fringing all, | |
| The sumac blushes to the ground, a flood | |
| Of deepest crimson; and afar, where looms | 25 |
| The gnarlëd gum, a cloud of bloodiest red. | |
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| Out in the woods of autumn! I have cast | |
| Aside the shackles of the town, that vex | |
| The fetterless soul, and come to hide myself, | |
| Miami! in thy venerable shades. | 30 |
| Here where seclusion looks out on a scene | |
| Of matchless beauty, I will pause awhile, | |
| And on this bank with varied mosses crowned | |
| Gently recline. Beneath me, silver-bright, | |
| Glide the calm waters, with a plaintive moan | 35 |
| For summer’s parting glories. High o’er-head, | |
| Seeking the sedgy brinks of still lagoons | |
| That bask in southern suns the winter through, | |
| Sails tireless the unerring waterfowl, | |
| Screaming among the cloud-racks. Oft from where, | 40 |
| In bushy covert hid, the partridge stands, | |
| Bursts suddenly the whistle clear and loud, | |
| Far-echoing through the dim wood’s fretted aisles. | |
| Deep murmurs from the trees, bending with brown | |
| And ripened mast, are interrupted oft | 45 |
| By sounds of dropping nuts; and warily | |
| The turkey from the thicket comes, and swift | |
| As flies an arrow darts the pheasant down, | |
| To batten on the autumn; and the air, | |
| At times, is darkened by a sudden rush | 50 |
| Of myriad wings, as the wild pigeon leads | |
| His squadrons to the banquet. Far away. | |
| Where tranquil groves on sunny slopes supply | |
| Their liberal store of fruits, the merry laugh | |
| Of children, and the truant school-boy’s shout, | 55 |
| Ring on the air, as, from the hollows borne, | |
| Nuts load their creaking carts, and lush pawpaws | |
| Their motley baskets fill, with clustering grapes | |
| And golden-sphered persimmons spread o’er all. | |
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