Song Of Autumn

With the leaves twirling down in beautiful color, today I thought I would share an autumn poem written by James Buckham.

Song of Autumn

Ho for the bending sheaves,
Ho for the crimson leaves
Flaming in splendor!

Season of ripened gold,
Plenty in crib and fold.
Skies with depth untold,
Liquid and tender.

Far, like the smile of God,
See how the golden-rod
Ripples and tosses!

Yonder, a crimson vine
Trails from a bearded pine,
Thin as a thread of wine
Staining the mosses.

Bright ‘neath the morning blue
Sparkles the frosted dew,
Gem-like and starry.

Hark how the partridge cock
Pipes to his scattered flock,
Mindful how swift the hawk
Darts on his quarry!

Autumn is here again…
Banners on hill and plain
Blazing and flying.

Hail to the amber morn,
Hail to the heaped-up corn,
Hail to the hunter’s horn,
Swelling and dying!

Happy Autumn (and Happy Thanksgiving to those in the U.S.)!

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