I dream more often — red and golden hue,

Where daylight weaves its tapestries of leaves,

Where from an ancient church the faint bells cue

The rains to whisper: Change approaches, grieve.

Where wizard-October paints the sleeping towns,

Their lanes become the lands of drowsy peace,

Where heaven’s water mirrors ocean’s crowns,

And stillness holds a vast and grand release.

Where clouds lie thick — a quilt of tender white,

And folds of sky grow pale, serene, and shy...

So it’s with me — as softly as the night —

The windy autumn wakes and opens eye.

Where wizard-October paints the sleeping towns,

Their lanes become the lands of drowsy peace,

Where heaven’s water mirrors ocean’s crowns,

And stillness holds a vast and grand release.