The Courtship of Autumn: A Poem

THE COURTSHIP OF AUTUMN. (For the Improvement Era.) Flower-like, over the golden sheen, Like an Indian girl, came the Autumn queen. The fiery trail of her flaming hair Went streaming away through the hazy air. And the skies took fire, and the sunburnt land: And the oak tree blushed as he kissed her hand. Her flushed cheek shone like a red sunbeam In the crystal depths of the gilded stream. The lake o'erspread with a crimson grace, As her footstep fell on his dimp'ling face. On the western wall of the sky out-spread, She painted a sunset scene blood- red.

THE COURTSHIP OF AUTUMN. 49 Then over the ocean world she came, And her feet of fire left a trail of flame. And the snow-capped peaks and the sun-lit bower All burst into bloom like a spring- kissed flower. With the rushing sound of a thousand rills, A foot- step fell on the northern hills. And a misty form with a countenance weird, On the cloudy edge of the world appeared. His cane was an icicle stout and sleek, His coat was a snow cloud long and thick. That hung from his chin to his snowdrift feet, And he buttoned it tight to exclude the heat. His frosty hair and his beard of snow Streamed over the hills when the wind would blow. His breath was the wind, and his voice was storm; But his heart of ice, in a world so warm, Seemed melting away to the blushing dame Who lighted his path with a world of flame. He called to her from the wildest peak Of the Wasatch Range, aloft and bleak.

She answered back from the canyon stream, And sent him a kiss on a ruddy beam. The blush of love on her face upturned, She beckoned to him, and his great heart yearned. He' rose to go; at his icy look, The streams retired and the forest shook. The white frost clung to his wrinkled brow, The red leaf dropt from the shiv'ring bough. And he fixed his glance on her dainty form, And circled her round with an icy arm. She gave him her world like a gem aglow, And faded away on his breast of snow.

THE COURTSHIP OF AUTUMN. 51 Then over the bleak and leaf-hid trail, With many a sigh, and many a wail, He carried her into the forest drear, All wrapped in her glory, withered and sere. With the dirge of the wind in the bending bough, He piessed a kiss on her pale, cold brow. And he took her close to his heart of woe, Then buried her under a drift of snow. Theo. E. Curtis. Salt Lake City, Utah.