Poetry Moment

Well, it looks like our indian summer is almost at an end but it was lovely while it lasted. I found this poem by William Wilfred Campbell (1858-1918); a Canadian poet.

Indian Summer

Along the line of smoky hills

     The crimson forest stands,

And all the day the blue-jay calls

     Throughout the autumn lands.

Now by the brook the maple leans

     With all his glory spread,

And all the sumachs on the hills

     Have turned their green to red.

Now by great marshes wrapt in mist,

     Or past some river's mouth,

Throughout the long, still autumn day

     Wild birds are flying south.

Have a great weekend, everyone!