Come Autumn
"Come Autumn, come Autumn,
Paint the world!
Trees, give me gold,
And riches unfurled!",
The poor man sang,
in a pile of leaves
under the Autumn trees,
The branches digest,
And the gold fell down
Upon the man's happiness,
And all around
And for once,
The man in rags
showered with gold,
was rich.
Copyright © Alyssa Finley | Year Posted 2006
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