Women of the Early Harlem Renaissance: African American Women Writers 1900-1922

An Autumn Day (Clara Ann Thompson)

I sat in the door of our cottage,
   One golden autumn day,
And the breezes stirring the tree-tops,
   Were as soft as those of May.
But looking away to the woodland,
   Through hazy autumn air,
The red and gold of the forest leaves,
   Proclaimed the frost-touch there.
The grass was still green in the pasture.
   Where soft-eyed cattle trod.
And down in the deep, sheltered valleys.
   Were asters and golden rod.
But I knew the merciless frost-king.
   Would come with might, erelong.
And blast all the green things remaining,
   And still the sweet bird-song.
So my heart drank in the warm beauty,
   Of that soft autumn day,
With a wistful love for ev'rything,
   So soon to pass away.

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