Here's the complete poem below. It's in the public domaine.
William Wilfred Campbell's (1858?-1918) Indian Summer
Along the line of smoky hills
The crimson forest stands,
And all the day the blue-jay calls
Throughout the autumn lands.
Now by the brook the maple leans
With all his glory spread,
And all the sumacs on the hills
And all the sumacs on the hills
Have turned their green to red.
Now by great marshes wrapt in mist,
Or past some river's mouth,
Throughout the long, still autumn day
Wild birds are flying south.
This poetry particularly resonates with me during the fall as
I admire the colourful landscapes all around me.
I admire the colourful landscapes all around me.
The pictures below, taken on my walks, capture the 'turning' of the
beautiful sumacs on the hills from green to red.
I hope you enjoy them. (double click to enlarge)
beautiful sumacs on the hills from green to red.
I hope you enjoy them. (double click to enlarge)
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