Gone are the warm days and autumn now comes,
the air turns crisp as the summers day is done.
‘Tis the songs of birds, like prayers on angels wings,
the bluest skies, that I am remembering.
The land now aflush with autumn gold,
hail October that doth now unfold.
The woodlands, hills, and dales doth boast thy comeliness,
and surround thy guests in autumn's shades of loveliness.
by Alexia Stevens