Autumn Time

The summer-flower has run to seed,

And yellow is the woodland bough;

And every leaf of bush and weed

Is tipt with autumn’s pencil now.

And I do love the varied hue,

And I do love the browning plain;

And I do love each scene to view,

That’s mark’d with beauties of her reign.

Autumn-time, thy scenes and shades

Are pleasing to the tasteful eye;

Though winter, when the thought pervades,

Creates an ague-shivering sigh.

Beneath a yellow fading tree,

As red suns light thee, Autumn-morn,

In wildest rapture let me see

The sweets that most thy charms adorn.

O while my eye the landscape views,

What countless beauties are display’d;

What varied tints of nameless hues, —

Shades endless melting into shade.

A russet red the hazels gain,

As suited to their drear decline;

While maples brightest dress retain,

And in the gayest yellows shine.

-Excerpts from John Clare's Autumn