Autumn Days

Oh, the glory of the days When the misty, golden haze, Of the autumn-time is hanging Over all our earthly ways; What a joy to see it rest On each vale and mountain crest, Like a gossamer extending From the east unto the west.

Oh, the spicy tang and sweet, Of the wafting winds that meet From the lowlands and the highlands, All these matchless days to greet ; How delightful, rich and rare, Are the odors which they bear, Scenting robes of night and morning For the season’s queen to wear.

Oh, the myriad dainty hues Of the asters, so profuse, Fringing fields and wayside places With their sprays of mauves and blues; How entrancingly they blend With the goldenrods that lend, Many flaming, yellow torches To illumine Summer’s end.