15. October

The summer is over,

The trees are all bare,

There is mist in the garden

And frost in the air.

The meadows are empty

And gathered the sheaves -

But isn't it lovely

Kicking up leaves!

John from the garden

Has taken the chairs;

It's dark in the evening

And cold on the stairs.

Winter is coming

And everyone grieves-

But isn't it lovely

Kicking up leaves!

Rose Fyleman