I have passed the day -mid the forest gay,
In its gorgeous autumn dyes,
Its tints as bright and as fair to the sight
As the hues of our sunset skies;
And the sun-s glad rays veiled by golden haze,
Streamed down -neath its arches grand,
And with magic power made scene and hour
Like a dream of Faerie Land.

The emerald sheen of the maple green
Is turned to deep, rich red;
And the boughs entwine with the crimson vine
That is climbing overhead;
While, like golden sheaves, the saffron leaves
Of the sycamore strew the ground,
-Neath birches old, clad in shimmering gold,
Or the ash with red berries crowned.

Stately and tall, o-er its sisters all,
Stands the poplar, proud and lone,
Every silvery leaf in restless grief
Laments for the summer flown;
While each oak and elm of the sylvan realm,
In brilliant garb arrayed,
With each other vie, -neath the autumn sky,
In beauty of form and shade

When wearied the gaze with the vivid blaze
Of rich tints before it spread-
Gay orange and gold, with shades untold
Of glowing carmine and red-
It can turn -mid the scene to the sombre green
Of the fir, the hemlock, the pine,
Ever-keeping their hue, and their freshness, too,
-Mid the season-s swift decline.

Though the bird-s sweet song, that the summer long
Hath flowed so sweet and clear
Through the cool, dim shades of our forest glades,
No longer charms the ear,
A witching spell, that will please as well
As his glad notes, may be found
In the solemn hush, or the leaves- soft rush,
As they thickly strew the ground.

For, though they tell of summer-s farewell,
Of their own decay and doom,
Of the wild storm-cloud and the snow-s cold shroud,
And the days of winter-s gloom,
The heart must yield to the power they wield,-
Alike tender, soothing, gay-
The beauties that gleam and that reign supreme
In our woods, this autumn day.