Autumn

XXVIII. AUTUMN.

The morns are meeker than they were, The nuts are getting brown ; The berry's cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town. The maple wears a gayer scarf, The field a scarlet gown. Lest I should be old-fashioned, I 'll put a trinket on.

 

from Poems by Emily Dickinson (1890)
Indian Summer	Beclouded

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