Autumn Poem by Benjamin Cutler Clark

Autumn! I love thy tinted looks,
Thy fading leaves, and rippling brooks,
And variegated flowers;
Thy cooling winds and wither'd grass,
Precursor of the stormy blast,
And fluctuating showers.

Thy cloudy days and sultry nights,
And ripen'd fruits and pleasant sights,
Tell, in language plain,
That thou, whose frigid looks are seen
In blighted trees, with yellow, green,
Hath call'd on us again.

Thy varied hills and vernal plains,
Wide fields, are stock'd with ripened grains,
And Indian summer's sun;
The crimson shadows of the sky,
And transient clouds rush swiftly by,
And tell us, Summer's done.

The cat-bird's pensive notes, unheard,
The keen winds blow, and ev'ry bird
Is silent through the land;
The varied foliage is seen,
Autumnal glory reigns supreme,
Spread by Almighty hand.

Autumn! I love thy cloudy sky,
Thy many storms that pass us by,
Thy not infrequent rain;
As ancient time still steals away
'Our years, and makes our whiskers gray,'
Permits us to remain.

Thy annual visit and decay
Teach us a lesson, that we may
By learning well, prepare
To live consistently below,
And be prepared, when call'd to go,
The common fate to share.