Autumn Poem

Autumn hills lie purpled,
Barren are the fields,
Garnered is the harvest,
That the summer yields.

Autumn leaves are falling,
Skies are dull and gray;
Wild geese southward calling,
Howeward fly today.

Autumn winds are blowing,
Cold, and damp, and drear;
Winter is approaching,
Filling mean with fear.

Autumn snows are falling,
From the lowering sky,
Giving us a signal --
Winter's drawing nigh.

Anonymous,
1928

Painting by Claude Monet