When Through The Bright October Leaves
When through the bright October leaves,
the west wind trails a misty rain,
though now your way by dim light weaves,
the jewel lamps are lit again.
Watch on hills first snows sweep to fall,
hear flakes tap on your window pane.
Love may still warm you like a shawl,
for what you pine you may yet gain.
Leaves of gold, of silver grey,
of yellow, bronze and copper red,
on straining branches fret and stray,
you need not grieve, though summer’s fled.
Now Robin Hood he loved a maid,
more fair than words from poet’s pen.
He met her in a woodland glade,
the archer led her to his den.
Enchanter of mountain pine,
of willow, birch and forest oak,
will fill your cup with autumn wine,
leave you to wear your winter cloak.