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Indian Summer

Rating: 2.5

Along the line of smoky hills
The crimson forest stands,
And all the day the blue-jay calls
Throughout the autumn lands.

Now by the brook the maple leans
With all his glory spread,
And all the sumachs on the hills
Have turned their green to red.

Now by great marshes wrapt in mist,
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Mary Ann Higgins 27 January 2020

The auto voice on the video was AWFUL how about a human for some real emotion and melancholy Plus the last verse was omitted.

0 0 Reply
ann krochter 13 September 2018

my mother drummed that poem into us until we knew it by heart. she has long since passed, but every time i hear it, it makes me cry for her.

2 0 Reply

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