Autumn is sister to the Spring, Linked by the hands of blossoming, From falling leaf to risen flower, Across the span of a white hour. Rapture to rapture, flame to flame, The burning beauty is the same That flickers in October's eyes, And lifts again to April skies! Winter is but a fleet, white dream. -- Below the snow, the laden stream Of life moves on with seed and spore. Immortal is the harvest store. No leaf is lost, no beauty dies. In all the bright, expectant eyes Of Autumn flowers there is no dread, No frosty fear of being dead. They flare in a triumphant blaze. A forecast beauty lights their days. And with a golden faith they fling The petaled torch onward to Spring! Autumn is sister to the Spring, Linked by the hands of blossoming, From falling leaf to risen flower, Across the span of a white hour. |