Skip to main content
Author
The autumn rooms of green and bronze
Are swept with cleanest airs today.
Large air puffs jostle little ones —
Not quarrelsome nor yet in play.

And in the valley bonfires spread
A blue enchantment on the day.
No spoil, no flaw! How good that spring
Is lengths of calendar away.
Rate this poem
No votes yet
Reviews
No reviews yet.