Song for Autumn

Mourn not for April….
Do not sigh in vain,
Remembering a country lane
White-arched with snowy
Wild plum boughs.
Forget all vows
You made to love the spring
Eternally. Autumn can be
A golden span no less bewitching
Than the hour in which the first
Bright crocus rears its head
Above a snow-patched flower-bed.
The throb of autumn rain
Against a well-loved roof,
And apple-flame upon the hearth
Is proof a heart may lift and sing
As joyously in autumn
As it did at the birth of spring!