When the bittersweet and lilies
Paint the woods with brilliant hue,
When the blue New England asters
Bloom in vale and meadow too.
When the sumac shows its crimson
And the oaken woods turn gold,
When the endless V's of snow geese
Cry with voices clear and bold.
When the silken pods of milkweed
Set their parachutes afree,
Then I know that it is Autumn.
Its arrival pleases me.
When the trembling aspen quivers
As it plays with teasing breeze,
Oh, the rustle of the cornstalks
As you stroll amongst their leaves!
When the monarch flits and flutters
In the sunlight's golden glare.
When the fragrant smell of wood smoke
From a fireplace fills the air.
When the leaves have dabbed their paintbrush
On the forest's waiting floor,
I know that it is Autumn.
`Tis the season I adore!
When the squirrel seems in a hurry
To complete his gathering task,
When the south wind slows, then hovers,
Giving way to north at last.
When the morning mist hangs heavy
And it chills you to your bones.
How the fields and farmlands glisten
With the golden harvest tones!
Then, when the weakening grip of daylight
Sets the stronger darkness free,
Yes, I know that it is Autumn
And my spirit soars in glee!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.