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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=477745" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Merry Autumn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">IT's all a farce, — these tales they tell<br>About the breezes sighing,<br>And moans astir o'er field and dell,<br>Because the year is dying.<br>Such principles are most absurd, —<br>I care not who first taught 'em;<br>There's nothing known to beast or bird<br>To make a solemn autumn.<br>In solemn times, when grief holds sway<br>With countenance distressing,<br>You'll note the more of black and gray<br>Will then be used in dressing.<br>Now purple tints are all around;<br>The sky is blue and mellow;<br>And e'en the grasses turn the ground<br>From modest green to yellow.<br>The seed burrs all with laughter crack<br>On featherweed and jimson;<br>And leaves that should be dressed in black<br>Are all decked out in crimson.<br>A butterfly goes winging by;<br>A singing bird comes after;<br>And Nature, all from earth to sky,<br>Is bubbling o'er with laughter.<br>The ripples wimple on the rills,<br>Like sparkling little lasses;<br>The sunlight runs along the hills,<br>And laughs among the grasses.<br>The earth is just so full of fun<br>It really can't contain it;<br>And streams of mirth so freely run<br>The heavens seem to rain it.<br>Don't talk to me of solemn days<br>In autumn's time of splendor,<br>Because the sun shows fewer rays,<br>And these grow slant and slender.<br>Why, it's the climax of the year,—<br>The highest time of living!—<br>Till naturally its bursting cheer<br>Just melts into thanksgiving.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Paul+Laurence+Dunbar">Paul Laurence Dunbar</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=477745" data-title="Merry Autumn de Paul Laurence Dunbar" data-description="IT's all a farce, — these tales they tell
About the breezes sighing,
And moans astir o'er field and dell,
Because the year is dying.
Such principles are most absurd, —
I care not who first taught 'em;
There's nothing known to beast or bird
To ..."></div>
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