Oh , the lovely autumn days,
When the earth is all ablaze
With a thousand kindling dyes,
And a misty glory lies
All about our common ways!
When a hush is in the air
Like an inarticulate prayer,
Nature, underneath her breath,
Giving thanks for life in death:
Death, so beautiful and rare,
Life itself were not so fair.

Spring is tardy, changeful, fleet;
Summer comes with dust and heat
Waiting on her flying feet:
But the peaceful autumn stays,
Blest and blessing, all her days.
She it is who mellows well
Dainty, luscious fruits that swell
From the laggard buds of spring
And the summer's blossoming.
Ah, they need her wholesome touch,
Lest they ripen overmuch;
So, with tempered breath, she cools
All the fevered air, and schools
Nature tOher own wise rules;
Then, her labor done, she pours
Out her bountiful, rich stores,—
Lighting up, on every hill,
Altar-fires, and kindling still
Flames of sacrificial thanks
Over all her viny banks.

Spring is tardy, changeful, fleet;
Summer comes with dust and heat;
But the peaceful autumn stays,
Blest and blessing, all her days.