Autumn by the Lake (Poetry)

This morning’s come with chill upon the air —
A page has turned, the days are full of change,
The ducks have flown to warmer lands elsewhere,
The empty lake feels lonelier and strange —
Faint wisps of mist cling to its reedy edge
And dampen stalks of bullrushes and sedge.

Without a sound, the leaves drop on the lake —
A scattering of coins — their copper thin
Reflections, stretching trees without a break —
The banks of gold and green exhibiting
A wealth of red and bronze — their sunset crowns
Glowing, while dull sky above them frowns.

The boats are tied; the tourists have all gone;
The path beside the water’s strung with webs;
The summer grass has withered, while the sun
Is wreathed in cloud — yet berries in the hedge,
Like beads of blood on thorn, gleam bold and bright,
To lift the gloomy spirit at their sight.

Thus, another summer’s taken its last bow,
And left the stage for Autumn’s moody play
As colours alter, and the light somehow
Slants across the hills a different way
On placid water stained with flecks of rust
And rising smoke from bonfires deepens dusk.