Poets have linked fair Autumn with regret,
But this is not the note to which I set
The Autumn days of ripened fruit and corn,
Of glowing eve, and frost-kissed, misty morn.
It is the season of the fuller life,
The time of peace that follows youthful strife,
When store of ripened thought, like golden corn,
Shines forth to herald the Eternal Dawn.
Spring sweetness past, and Summer’s golden store
Are gone, and may for us, return no more;
Yet for past youth or mid-life's noble prime
Would Wisdom change th’ experience of Time?
It speaks of tasks well done, of labor
These days are emblems of the God-like
Viewing the harvest wealth, have we not stood
And echoed the refrain—“All, all is good?”