"An Autumn Carol"

Oh, it's autumn, golden autumn, and the summer days are done,
The flowers in the garden ways have left us one by one;
The leaves upon the wayside trees have turned to crimson fire,
And sumac to the smoky skies uplifts its glowing spire.

Oh, it's autumn, ruddy autumn, at the turning of the year–
And winter with his snowy cloak is slowly drawing near;
The birds have hushed their singing and the butterflies are gone;
But the earth is full of beauty as the days march on!

Yes, it's autumn, golden autumn—and the air is crisp and cool.
Theres' silver frost in sheltered nooks and ice upon the pool,
And the wind that snatches red leaves and whirls them from the tree
Paints jolly crimson roses in the cheeks of you and me!

Ah, it's autumn, autumn, autumn, but although the year is old,
Still gaily in the corn-stalks sere the pumpkin flaunts his gold!
While yellow grains and mellow fruits still crown the harvest time,
For it's autumn, golden autumn, and the year is in its prime!
                                                                                . . . . . Edith D. Osborne