AUTUMN'S SONG

'Neath blanching Gold my yarn I spin,

'mid harvest season's cheer;

all toil, for Summer's fruits to win,

ere skies grow drab and drear.

My umber loom deep gilt warps span,

bronze wefts my shuttles loop;

with russet tawn the Deity's plan,

'pon mists to her realm troop.

The growing Dark his shadows casts

o'er Purple, Fawn and Red;

their warmth they tote thro' frosty blasts,

such stain my silken thread.

My themes I sew 'pon hills and meads;

my essence bittersweet

to shrouded swathes guides ripened seeds,

where Birth and Death shall meet.

The woods in jewels I array,

that soon to Earth shall cleave,

for rich brocades 'pon Her to lay

thro' waning days I weave.

My fabric whirling winds enlace,

blooms' tears its folds adorn;

their silver thrushes 'pon it place,

the God's Light marks its bourn.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image source: framingpainting.com

Artist: Thomas Moran