When maples flaunt their colors far and near, Enravishment of Indian Summer days, I marvel as rich gold and reds appear Enveloped in a softening veil of haze. I do not think of shadows deep and long, Or chilling winds. My heart knows ecstasy— Aud I can sing a glad thanksgiving song, For spicy, scented air is wine to me. A summer's finished work—her fires glow high— The hills stand out in crimson garmenting, While flame-floods reach across the wind-kissed sky At evening time. O, harvest paeans ring Out hope and joy and reverence withal, For God's great benediction in the fall. —PRESBYTERIAN ADVANCE | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 4 by CONRAD AIKEN IMAGINARY ANCESTORS: THE GIRAFFE WOMAN OF BURMA by MADELINE DEFREES FICTION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO MAY HOWARD JACKSON - SCULPTOR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON POSSUM SONG (A WARNING) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE BLACK MONKEY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ALONZO CHURCHILL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |