Classic Poem

The bright sun threw his glory all around;
And then the balmy, mild, autumnal breeze
Swept, with a musical and fitful sound,
Among the fading foliage of the trees;
And, now and then, a playful gust would seize
Some falling leaf, and, like a living thing,
Which flits about wherever it may please,
It floated round in many an airy ring,
Till on the dewy grass it fell with wearied wing.