Ah! the year is slowly dying, And the wind in tree-top sighing, Chant his requiem. Thick and fast the leaves are falling, High in air wild birds are calling, Nature's solemn hymn. — Mary Weston Fordham Copy Share Image
Mine is the time of foliage, When hills and valleys teem With buds and vines sweet scented, All clothed in glowing green. My nights… — Mary Weston Fordham Copy Share Image
Ah! the year is slowly dying, And the wind in tree-top sighing, Chant his requiem. Thick and fast the leaves are falling, High in… — Mary Weston Fordham Copy Share Image
