I can't recall the title or author, but I memorized this one in public school and it's always stuck with me.
Indian Summer
William Wilfred Campbell
(thanks to Owlbow)
Along the line of smoky hills
The crimson forest stands,
And all the day the bluejay calls
Throughout the autumn lands.
Now by the brook the maple leans
With all his glory spread,
And all the sumacs on the hill
Have turned their green to red.
Now by great marshes wrapped in mist
Or past some river's mouth,
Throughout the long, clear autumn day
Wild birds are flying south.
And, if you'll forgive it, one I wrote.
Autumn Cat
The days grow shorter past the equinox;
The autumn hues of maple, pumpkin, frost
Peek through the fading leaves, and nights grow chill,
Though summer's warmth in daytime lingers still.
My cat's September too, who, day by day,
By changing shows me winter's on its way.
Her coat of black, all flecked with white and gold,
Grows thick and soft against the coming cold.
This huntress of fat mice on summer days
Looks nightwards now, and sets her golden gaze
On fluttermice who swiftly swoop in air,
By day stalks falling leaves as trees grow bare.
Though summer's warmth still lingers in her purr,
Night, frost and fox are lurking in her fur.
Last edited by Elizabeth Creith; 11/02/05 04:04 PM.
