An Autumn Sketch

Tonight the rain comes pattering on my roof,

It taps as would a prancing horse’s hoof.

All day the leaden sky foreboded rain,

The thirsty earth had waited long in vain.

The bronzed leaves strewn thickly everywhere

Are now a sodden mass, with trees left bare.

How drearily the autumn trudges on,

The days are somber, grey, the light is wan,

And like a moan the wind sweeps mournfully by;

Then, falling to a whisper low, it sighs,

Forlorn and lone, as though it dreaded much

The sabered cold and winter’s icy touch.

E’en though the earth will hide ‘neath deep-piled snow,

While Nature’s pulse beats slow, God planned it so.

The grip of frost will hold with fetters strong,

Like bands of steel, suppressing every song.

But awe and wonder fill the human breast,

When winter, ermine-clothed, becomes our royal guest.