A Vagabond Song

An Autumn day and the falling leaves
In the harvest’s hazy air;
The ripened nuts from the hazel trees,
A flash of wings through the minted leaves,
And a gentian, blue and fair.
A sudden surge from a nearby brook,
A bare old stump is a frightful nook
For a wee squirrel frisking there.
The Autumn days thru’ the Autumn long
Fill my heart with a vagabond song.

There are purple mists on mountains grey
Where the treetops reach the sky;
The honking geese trail the blue, blue way
Where a gay breeze lingers, just to play,
And then, laughing, rushes by.
A joyful note from a bird on wing;
A rustle and stir where treetops swing
Wakes a sleeping butterfly.
A vagabond song fills all the air
And leaves no place for a worldly care.

A beam of sun on the hills afar
Breaks the shroud of Autumn’s veil;
She found the sky, so dark with clouds,
Had banished far her carefree June.
Her cloak was gone, her flowers were dead;
Her fair face paled, she bowed her head.
Her tears fell fast as Autumn rain,
Young summer faced defeat again.
Forth through the world she went alone
To seek afar another throne.

– Circa 1936

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