The merriest time of all the year <br />Is the time when the leaves begin to fall, <br />When the chestnut-trees turn yellow and sere, <br />And the flowers are withering one and all; <br />When the thick green sward is growing brown, <br />And the honeysuckle berries are red, <br />And the oak is shaking its acorns down, <br />And the dry twigs snap 'neath the woodman's tread. <br />The merriest dance that e'er was seen <br />Is the headlong dance of the whirling leaves, <br />And the rattling stubble that flies between <br />The yellow ranks of the barley sheaves. <br />The merriest song that e'er was heard <br />Is the song of the sobbing autumn wind; <br />When the thin bare boughs of the elm are stirr'd, <br />And shake the black ivy round them twined. <br />The merriest time of all the year <br />Is the time when all things fade and fall, <br />When the sky is bleak, and the earth is drear, <br />Oh, that's the merriest month of all.<br /><br />Frances Anne Kemble<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/autumn-song-12/
