This carpet of leaves now falling and dead,
The luxurious berries all shining with juice,
And the chestnuts preparing to fall, pulling loose;
Is it not in the birds preparing for flight,
Or shortening days relenting to night,
The harvesting season donating its crops
And bushes yet bursting blackcurrants and hops;
Is it not in the chill which seeps to the core,
Or squirrels out gathering nuts for their store,
Or bobbing the apple and watching for ghosts
Or standing at bonfires with rockets and toast.
T’is in such as these we see Autumn’s best
A beauty surpassing the seasonal rest,
Its cosiness, gaiety, crisp early glow
Holds wonder yet still other seasons can’t show.