The Autumn Leaves
The leaves are falling one by one, Like solemn tears from winter’s sun. The autumn’s breath is cold and chill, And silence reigns on every hill.
No more the songbirds sing at morn, No more the whispering winds adorn The boughs that sway with gentle grace, In nature’s grand and wild embrace.
Yet beauty lingers in this phase, A quiet stillness, a golden haze. For nature weaves her tapestry, In every shade of the autumn tree.
- C H W L Hursthouse