Mystery

Wonder if oak and mnple, Willow and elm and all. Are stirred at heart by the coming Of the day their leavcs must fall, Dö they think ot the yellow whirhviml, ( )r kiiow of the crimson spray That shall bo when chili November Bears all their leaves away ? Perhaps - beside the water The willow bends, serene As whcn her young llaves glistoned In a mist of golden green. But the brave old oak ia flushing To a wine red, dark and deep, And maple and elm are blushiug The blush of a child asleep. 'Ii die -we must,' the leaflcts Seem one by one to say, 'We will wear the colors of gladnes XJntil we pass away. No cyes shall see us ialter ; And before we lay ït down, Wo'll wear, in the sight of all the earth, The year's most kingly crown.' So, trees ot the stately forest, And trees by trodden way, You are kindling into glory This soft autumnal day. And they who gaze remember That more than all they lost, To hearts and trees together May come through the ripening frost.