Peaceful and silent in the mellow smile
Of Autumn, harvest-fields and pastures lie.
Imperial Autumn! barn and granary
High with her glistening grain-store doth she pile;
Each night the fair moon like a silver isle
Unclouded beams upon the earth's broad breast;
Anon, the wind-god riseth from his rest,
And sings triumphant on the blast, the while
Legions of leaves their tinted ensigns strew,
To mark his path. The tall fern-stems are bare
Beneath the hedges; and where roses threw,
In summer mornings, perfume to the air,
From his bright breast the robin shakes the dew,
'Mid clustered berries of the self-same hue.