Comes The Autumn Poem by James Walter Orr
Comes The Autumn
Our summer fled the sun's hot rays,
And autumn took her place.
It's good to feel a cooler breeze
Brush closely by our face.
Each season, from our meager store,
Leaves empty space behind.
Let's lift our cups and toast our lives,
If you would be so kind.
Our hair falls like the autumn leaves,
Our head bares like the fields:
Our only consolation is
If we can raise the yields.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 12:32:52 PM # 1.0.0.1119
