In The Clearing

In the clearing, step softly forward,
Where the ferns lay auburn in the fall;
Where hum of crickets start to fade,
Within the woods where whispers call.
A perfume spins through every bough,
The frosty air begs all to breathe;
Where sentinels of trees do stand,
Their glowing hues begin to sheath.
And nature’s solace sings within—
Little beauties dwell and stay;
O, in my heart I’ve wild laughter,
Where nature holds her delicate sway!

• Sarah Orne Jewett