Monet Autumn

Thou comest, Autumn, her­ald­ed by the rain,
With ban­ners, by great gales inces­sant fanned,
Brighter than bright­est silks of Samar­cand,
And state­ly oxen har­nessed to thy wain!

Thou stand­est, like impe­r­i­al Charle­magne,
Upon thy bridge of gold; thy roy­al hand
Out­stretched with bene­dic­tions o’er the land,
Bless­ing the farms through all thy vast domain!

Thy shield is the red har­vest moon, sus­pend­ed
So long beneath the heav­en’s o’er-hang­ing eaves;
Thy steps are by the farmer’s prayers attend­ed;
Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves;

And, fol­low­ing thee, in thy ova­tion splen­did,
Thine almoner, the wind, scat­ters the gold­en leaves!

~ Hen­ry Wadsworth Longfel­low

Today’s pro­gram is pre­sent­ed by Gabrielle Riel. If you are in the Unit­ed States, please click here to launch the Stream Licens­ing play­er. To lis­ten from out­side of the Unit­ed States, click here to start your play­er .

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