THE LIGHT OF THE LEAVES.

Hurry, skurry through the air Leaves are falling everywhere. Gold and crimson meet or miss Smile or blush at the frost king’s kiss.

Whirling, twirling, o’er the ground, Forced by merry winds around; Piled by childish hands on high, There, like martyred saints, to die.

Crackle crackle, sound their knells, Imprisoned sunshine in them dwells Like tiny tongues, ’twixt earth and sky They whisper love to passers by.

Falling, ever falling, they, Consumed to make the world more gay; The misty cloud of smoke o’erhead Seems like the veil Shakina spread.

Down and down comes memory’s leaf, Bright with hopes or sere with grief; The brightest one in life’s huge pile Is that from which our bonfires smile. —Cora May Cratty.