Classic Poem

The autumn's wind on suthering wings
Plays round the oak tree strong
And through the hawthorn hedges sings
The year's departing song.
There's every leaf upon the whirl
Ten thousand times an hour,
The grassy meadows crisp and curl
With here and there a flower.
There's nothing in this world I find
But wakens to the autumn wind.

The chaffinch flies from out the bushes,
The bluecap "teehees" on the tree,
The wind sues on in merry gushes
His murmuring autumn minstrelsy.
The robin sings his autumn song
Upon the crab tree overhead,
The clouds of smoke they sail along,
Leaves rustle from their mossy bed.
There's nothing suits my musing mind
Like to the pleasant autumn wind.

How many a mile it suthers on
And stays to dally with the leaves,
And when the first broad blast is gone
A stranger gust the foliage heaves.
The poplar tree is turned to gray
And crowds of leaves do by it ride,
The birch tree dances all the day
In concert with the rippling tide.
There's nothing calms the unquiet mind
Like to the soothing autumn's wind.

Sweet twittering o'er the meadow grass,
Soft sueing o'er the fallow ground,
The lark starts up as on they pass
With many a gush and moaning sound.
It fans the feathers of the bird
And ruffles robin's ruddy breast
As round the hovel's end it swerved,
Then sobs and sighs and goes to rest.
In solitude the musing mind
Must ever love the autumn wind.