Over New England now, the snow
glitters on spruce and applewood;
the white owl hunts by dusk where late
the rabbits found the autumn good.

In Pennsylvania, the tall
farmer brings in his final hay,
the second growth; his oxen plod
under the last cold green of day.

In Delaware, the stacks of corn
march like brown tepees on the sky.
In Maryland, by Havre de Grace,
the fishers spread their nets to dry.

Deep in Virginia, the blue
piled mountains hide the westward path,
and rivers hunting for the sea
are red as the sundown's aftermath.

The silver onslaught of the tide
assails the Carolina coast,
where the full boughs of sounding oaks
defy the faint approach of frost.

In Georgia, darkness grows along
the wandering pine-straw roads; the sweet
fragrance of landward wind lies down
with the small bright blades of winter wheat.

In Florida, hibiscus clench
their scarlet blooms beneath the stars,
while the sun-warmed beaches and the sea
thunder their slow, eternal wars.