There will be other autumns with their singing
When beauty spreads through valleys like a flame
And crystal mirrors wear a scarlet frame
Where wild ducks preen. Again will come the ringing
Of bells of silver aspens turned to gold;
When gilded birches flaunt their twirling splendor
Beside the Midas-willows, then surrender
October's crown to sumacs, pert and bold;
When locust-purses open and are flinging
Their burnished coins for earth again to claim--
There will be other autumns, but Time's Vendor
May give no more than this as mine to hold.
