Autumn

Cast up thine eyes in wonderment,
And with thy gaze take tally.
T'is but the trees in ball-gowns,
That are waltzing round the valley.

All in tune with rhythmic steps,
They bend with slender forms.
And with a sly mischiveous glance,
They mock at coming storms.

So brightly draped in over-skirts,
They curtsy...O so low.
And with the foot-lights of the sun,
Enchantment is aglow.

Color is but flames of magic,
Streaking through the far expanse.
Like the merriment of faces,
In the gaiety of dance.

Lift...O lift thy eyes to splendor,
Come and join the the season's rally.
T'is but the trees in evening gowns,
That are waltzing round the valley.

E.P. 1908 - 1989