The speaker in "Merry Autumn" has no patience for the usual talk of autumn as a dying season. He calls those melancholy tales a "farce" and insists that nature itself disproves them. Rather than black and gray for grief, the world is decked out in purple, crimson, blue, and yellow. Seed burs crack with laughter, birds sing, butterflies flutter, and even the sunlight seems to chuckle along the hills. The whole earth is so full of mirth that it can't help spilling over into streams of joy. The poem practically buzzes with energy and defiance, pushing back against any solemnity. For this speaker, autumn isn't an ending—it's the "climax of the year," the peak of living, so rich and bright that its cheer naturally melts into thanksgiving. The mood is warm, humorous, and infectiously optimistic.
Merry Autumn — Summary
It's all a farce,—these tales they tell About the breezes sighing, And moans astir o'er field and dell, Because the year is dying.
Such principles are most absurd,— I care not who first taught 'em; There's nothing known to beast or bird To make a solemn autumn.
In solemn times, when grief holds sway With countenance distressing, You'll note the more of black and gray Will then be used in dressing.
Now purple tints are all around; The sky is blue and mellow; And e'en the grasses turn the ground From modest green to yellow.
The seed burs all with laughter crack On featherweed and jimson; And leaves that should be dressed in black Are all decked out in crimson.
A butterfly goes winging by; A singing bird comes after; And Nature, all from earth to sky, Is bubbling o'er with laughter.
The ripples wimple on the rills, Like sparkling little lasses; The sunlight runs along the hills, And laughs among the grasses.
The earth is just so full of fun It really can't contain it; And streams of mirth so freely run The heavens seem to rain it.
Don't talk to me of solemn days In autumn's time of splendor, Because the sun shows fewer rays, And these grow slant and slender.
Why, it's the climax of the year,— The highest time of living!— Till naturally its bursting cheer Just melts into thanksgiving.