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| Squirrel in the Autumn Woods |
AUTUMN WOODS
William Cullen Bryant
Ere, in the northern gale,
The summer tresses of the trees are gone,
The woods of Autumn, all around our vale,
Have put their glory on.
The mountains that infold,
In their wide sweep, the colored landscape round
Seem groups of giant kings, in purple and gold, That guard the enchanted ground.
I roam the woods that crown
The upland, where the mingled splendors glow, Where the gay company of trees look down
On the green fields below.
My steps are not alone...
In these bright walks; the sweet south-west, at play,
Flies, rustling, where the painted leaves are strown
Along the winding way.
