Sunbeams filter through the mist, The willows turn to red, Delphiniums and hollyhocks
Stand tall in flower-bed.
Spider’s webs and dew-clad grass, A blackbird’s magic sound,
Fallen fruits of autumn are Scattered on the ground.
All is quiet, all is still
Each phase is in its place,
Making way for winter,
And its restful, quiet pace . . .