Now round red roofs stand russet stacks arow: <br />Homeward from gleaning in the stubbly wheat, <br />High overhead the harsh rook saileth slow, <br />And cupless acorns crackle 'neath your feet. <br />No breeze, no breath, veereth the oasthouse hoods, <br />Whence the faint smoke floats fragrantly away; <br />And, in the distance, the half-hazy woods <br />Glow with the barren glory of decay. <br />Vainly the bramble strives to drape the hedge, <br />Whose leafless gaps show many an empty nest: <br />The chill pool stagnates round the seeded sedge; <br />And, as the sunset saddens in the west, <br />Funereal mist comes creeping down the dale, <br />And widowed Autumn weeps behind her veil.<br /><br />Alfred Austin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-autumn-picture/
