Autumn Song

Crimson spreads across the fading green, An amber brushstroke paints the trees, While leaves whirl down like whispers soft, To rest as soldiers beneath the breeze.

The skies retreat in dusky light, While amber fields sway in golden breath, Here in the hush of crisping dusk, Life dances on the edge of death.

The harvest waits; the bounty gleams, Yet here we find the heart’s clear prize, In nature’s gentle cradling arms, As time reveals her sweet surprise. —Louis MacNeice

• Louis MacNeice