Faded Leaves - An 1883 Poem

By Alice Cary.

The hills are bright with maples yet;

But down the level land

The beech leaves rustle in the wind

As dry and brown as sand.

 

The clouds in bars of rusty red

Along the hill tops glow,

And in the still sharp air the frost

Is like a dream of snow.

 

The berries of the briar-rose

Have lost their rounded pride,

The bitter-sweet chrysanthemums

Are drooping heavy-eyed.

 

The cricket grows more friendly now,

The doormouse sly and wise

Hiding away in the disgrace

Of nature from men's eyes.

 

The pigeons in black wavering lines

Are swinging tow'rd the sun;

And all the wide and withered fields

Proclaim the summer done.

 

His store of nuts and acorns now

The squirrel hastes to gain,

And sets his house in order for

The Winter's dreary reign.

 

'Tis time to light the evening fire

To read good books, to sing

The low and lovely songs that breathe

Of the eternal Spring.

October 12, 1883. Washington D.C. Evening Star 62(9509): 2.