There have been other autumns ere this one

Came with its fragrant, spicy breath

To claim its mystic power over human hearts;

And yet, its beauty trembles in the throes of death.

I have seen fleecy clouds before in rare blue skies,

With sloping hillside decked with sumac, gaudy red…

While foremost preened the maples, with a russet wardrobe blest,

Flashing in wildest colors, acclaiming Nature’s prize.

But these October days are like the tinkling of the harps

Upon my swiftly beating heart;

Their grandeur makes me shout with song, yet tears well unashamed.

O God, thy world is beautiful, a glorious work of art!

And when the countryside turns quick to flaming gold,

‘Tis then its burning beauty is more than heart can hold.

Elsie D. Kuizema