Pine, Rose and Fleur de Lis

by Susie Frances Harrison




Opaque and dry glows the autumn sky with a blue that is merged
  in shining,
No deep rich hue but a pallid blue that is veiled with gray as for
And in heart and mart there be need of art to keep a gray world
  from repining.

For rose and gold cometh snow and cold and a leaden sky in the
And the huntsman’s pink is a lurid link the lonely valleys adorning,
And the feet are fleet the bright hearth to greet, with the pack the
  wet ways scorning.

The leaf is here but it grows full sere and it steadily mottles and
And the chestnuts loom through a golden gloom that is lit by the
  maple yellows,
That nest is best that is hardily drest and secure far beyond its

The jewelled ash makes a flame and a flash the while that its
  leaves are thinning,
But a night and a day and the winds shall have sway and these
  same seared leaves sent spinning,
But a rock and a shock and the winds shall mock at the wealth
  they are wildly winning.

While the leaves still cling may the heart still sing though the trees
  in the storm be straining,
Their trunks showing black in the forest track heaped high with the
  frail ferns’ raining,
And the song is strong while the tissued throng faint not nor wither
  in waning.

When they shrivel and shrink even gay hearts think of the end that
  is somewhere in waiting,
When the ash consumes with the sumach plumes and there be no
  birds for mating,
And the wet ways met are the death ways set that the wanton
  winds are creating.



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