NOW come the rosy dogwoods,
The golden tulip-tree,
And the scarlet yellow maple,
To make a day for me.
…
The ash-trees on the ridges,
The alders in the swamp,
Put on their red and purple
To join the autumn pomp.
…
The woodbine hangs her crimson
Along the pasture wall,
And all the bannered sumacs
Have heard the frosty call.
…
Who then so dead to valor
As not to raise a cheer,
When all the woods are marching
In triumph of the year?
– In October by William Bliss Carman