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