This Autumn is a Gypsy maid Who stole an April moon To dress herself in flame-chiffon Beside a blue lagoon. She gathers colors recklessly To tangle in her hair, And spills her perfume, apple ripe, Upon the cool, crisp air. She dances through gold-wooded hills Half wild, a-gleam and gay, But rain will brew a witch's curse And turn her garments gray! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SUMMER'S GARDEN by ROBERT FROST ON THE SALE OF MY FARM by ROBERT FROST ON A VOLUME OF SCHOLASTIC PHILOSOPHY by GEORGE SANTAYANA TO A FRIEND by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS IN FLANDERS FIELDS by JOHN MCCRAE LOVE'S RESURRECTION DAY by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON |