Golden Summer Poem by Della Hodgson James

The golden summer's waning
Late flowers weave and nod,  
The golden skies are fading
Who changes them? Our God.
The golden leaves are dropping
The golden flowers fall,  
Cold, bleak winds of winter
Will soon make their yearly call.

The golden weeks are slipping by
Into that great beyond,  
To leave only golden memories
When golden days are gone.

Golden hours are swiftly passing
The golden moments fly,  
Into that vast eternity
Where we'll go by and by.