AUTUMN'S GOLD

by George MacDonald

Along the tops of all the yellow trees,
  The golden-yellow trees, the sunshine lies;
  And where the leaves are gone, long rays surprise
Lone depths of thicket with their brightnesses;
And through the woods, all waste of many a breeze,
  Cometh more joy of light for Poet's eyes--
  Green fields lying yellow underneath the skies,
And shining houses and blue distances.

By the roadside, like rocks of golden ore
  That make the western river-beds so bright,
  The briar and the furze are all alight!
Perhaps the year will be so fair no more,
  But now the fallen, falling leaves are gay,
  And autumn old has shone into a Day!

AN AUTUMN NIGHT
by Madison Cawein

Some things are good on Autumn nights,

When with the storm the forest fights,

And in the room the heaped hearth lights

    Old-fashioned press and rafter:

Plump chestnuts hissing in the heat,

A mug of cider, sharp and sweet,

And at your side a face petite,

    With lips of laughter.

Upon the roof the rolling rain,

And tapping at the window-pane,

The wind that seems a witch's cane

    That summons spells together:

A hand within your own awhile;

A mouth reflecting back your smile;

And eyes, two stars, whose beams exile

    All thoughts of weather.

And, while the wind lulls, still to sit

And watch her fire-lit needles flit

A-knitting, and to feel her knit

    Your very heartstrings in it:

Then, when the old clock ticks 'tis late,

To rise, and at the door to wait,

Two words, or at the garden gate,

    A kissing minute.