October Days
THE maples in the forest glow;
On the lawn the fall flowers blaze;
The landscape has a purple haze:
My heart is filled with warmth and glow.
On the lawn the fall flowers blaze;
The landscape has a purple haze:
My heart is filled with warmth and glow.
Like living coals the red leaves burn;
They fall — then turns the red to rust;
They crumble, like the coals, to dust:
Warm heart, must thou to ashes turn?
They fall — then turns the red to rust;
They crumble, like the coals, to dust:
Warm heart, must thou to ashes turn?
Sylvester Baxter.