Ode To Autumn.

"How innocent were these Trees, that in

Mist-green May, blown by a prospering breeze,

Stood garlanded and gay;

Who now in sundown glow

Of serious colour clad confront me with their show

As though resigned and sad,

Trees, who unwhispering stand umber, bronze, gold;

Pavilioning the land for one grown tired and old;

Elm, chestnut, aspen and pine, I am merged in you,

Who tell once more in tones of time,

Your foliaged farewell."-

~October Trees: Siegfried Sassoon.