|
|
Autumn.
By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.
Extra Info:
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 646 times.
|
|