To Autumn

O Thou who passest thro’ our vallies in Thy Chariot of the Sun, Crown’d with the Fruits of the Earth,\nSeason of the year are done:
Thy voice is heard in the drowsy evening,
As thy golden harvest hastens on.
When in my Mind’s eye I see,
The perfect Harvest Thou dost bring.
From each tree that spreads and sheds
All the fruit, for all to see;
I hear Thy voice in every stream,
And feel Thy presence in silent trees.

O Thou that fillest all the Earth and skies,
Thy beauty bright like the flowers that rise,
To greet the day, to drink the dew,
Your spirit dances in sweet morning light,
A hymn to every creature great and small,
As wonder calls through the silence of the night.

• William Blake