"A Fall Song"
by Ellen Robena Field
Golden and red
trees
Nod to the soft
breeze,
As it whispers, "Winter is
near;"
And the brown nuts
fall
At the wind's loud
call,
For this is the Fall of
the year.
Good-by, sweet
flowers!
Through bright Summer
hours
You have filled our hearts
with cheer
We shall miss you so,
And yet you must
go,
For this is the Fall of
the year.
Now the days grow
cold,
As the year grows
old,
And the meadows are brown
and sere;
Brave robin redbreast
Has gone from his
nest,
For this is the Fall of
the year.
I do softly
pray
At the close of
day,
That the little children,
so dear,
May as purely
grow
As the fleecy
snow
That follows the Fall of
the year.
Winne The
Pooh
