On mid October mornings
The tired sun sleeps late
And night's reluctant shadows
Withdraw themselves and wait
But you had best rise early
And walk the woods so deep
To see along their branch
The deepening colours seep
Look well and look intently
At every coloured thing
And save them up for winter
When you've forgotten Spring.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem