Rapture

" Withered leaves are dancing,

   With the breezes prancing.

Harvest mows are smiling

With their stores beguiling.

Zephyrs swift are chafing

With the brooklets laughing.

Autumn's stars are beaming

Through the crisp night gleaming.

Birds are southward winging

Full of joyous singing.

Hill, and vale, and river.

In the sunlight quiver.

Thrilling with thanksgiving

O'er the joy of living. "

   - J. K. Bangs, (Rapture) 1913