
THE CHANGE 
Laughing sunshafts entwined the trees, 
And with silken hands in the breeze, 
The Fall’s kaleidoscopic brush 
Tinted the foliage. A hush 
Expectant on the trembling air. 
Dull, somber clouds obscured the fair 
November sky, where still burned 
The friendly sun. 
And gently turned 
Was Autumn’s hour. Now the flakes 
Sifting down; the snow goddess makes 
Her crisp début, while in her train 
Come trooping Winter joys again. 
—F., L. Harding. 
