p. 12 | The Autumn Woods by Eva J. Beede

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Washington, D.C. · Nov 5, 1903

The Autumn Woods

By Eva J. Beede

WHAT beauty in the autumn woods, Where in the calm, deep solitude The amber sunshine finds its way, The checkered light and shadows play. Such beauty everywhere we turn, The moss-grown rock and drooping fern, The woodland flowers and trailing vines, The singing brooks and sighing pines, The murmur of the gentle breeze That stirs the yellow chestnut leaves, Till softly in the grasses brown The round and prickly burs drop down.

The maples are in bright array Of mottled gold and crimson gay; The oak in deepest scarlet dressed, In cloth of gold are all the rest, Except that now and then between There stands a tall dark evergreen That sheds its spicy fragrance 'round, And drops its cones upon the ground.

With asters, white and purple tinged, And goldenrod the woods are fringed, With scarlet berries peeping through Where wild grapes hang of purple hue, And fiery fingered ivy clings, While milkweed floats on downy wings. The crickets chirp, and insects hum, For glorious autumn now has come.

— Eva J. Beede.