To Autumn

O autumn, where dreary winds breathe, and sigh, With dainty fingers trailing across the sky, Your voice murmurs low in a brazen hue, Lending warmth to the chill that is whispering through.

The harvesters gather, beneath the bright sun, With whirring of wheels, like the web that they spun, Your brawny arms stretch in the languorous air, Surely, not dusk can betray such a pair!

Through valleys of gold, where the sunlight can roam, And streams murmur lightly in songs of their home, All Nature is waking in a hushed ballet, While twilight falls gently at the closing of day.

So cradle me soft in your bounty so vast, With echoes of joy in your essence amassed, As your velvet edgings curl ‘round each soft glance, In the heart of the harvest, where dreams dare to dance.

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• John Everett Millais