THERE is music in the meadows, in the air -- Autumn is here; Skies are gray, but hearts are mellow, Leaves are crimson, brown, and yellow; Pines are soughing, birches stir, And the Gipsy trail is fresh beneath the fir. There is rhythm in the woods, and in the fields, Nature yields: And the harvest voices crying, Blend with Autumn zephyrs sighing; Tone and color, frost and fire, Wings the nocturne Nature plays upon her lyre. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VOYAGE A L'INFINI by WALTER CONRAD ARENSBERG THE POTATOES' DANCE by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY MEMORIES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH BEHIND TIME by ALEXANDER ANDERSON FATI VALET HORA BENIGNI by SAMUEL BISHOP AFFINITES: 2 by MATHILDE BLIND |