When Autumn’s In Its Glory

When Autumn’s in its glory and the world is red and gold,

     A little blue above it just to make the scene complete,

I like to dream and wander through the woods and through the wold,

     And hear the crimson carpet as it rustles ‘neath my feet.

O, far from melancholy is the feeling of the fall,

     When the apples, red and yellow, decorate the hanging bough;

When across the flaming meadow comes the cheery “Bob White” call,

     When signs of peace and plenty are upon Dame Nature’s brow.

When Autumn’s in its glory ‘tis the harvest time of year,

     The fullness of the season, and the time for thanks and rest;

In the red and yellow landscape I find nothing sad or drear,

     When Autumn’s in its glory is of all the year the best.

Oct. 7, ‘10