BEYOND the crimsoning autumn hill
The lingering twilight fades to gray,
And feathered choirs flit and trill
Their bye-low songs at close of day.
Above, the bright sky softly shines,
Below, the busy swains are seen
In twilight quest through pumpkin vines
For earth's rich hoards of gold and green.
Beside the tree-enshadowed way
The queenly goldenrod I see,
In graceful mien and garb so gay—
God's beauteous picture wrought for me.
The perfumed zephyrs, soft and sweet,
Are mingling now with autumn's breeze,
And strewn along the fence-bound street
Are rainbow colors from the trees.