The little autumn leaves,
Shabby and frayed and tin,
Get up beneath November skies
And dance before the wind.

They dance before the wind
That hurled them from their place,
But could not blow their anners down
Nor ruin their April grace.

They curtsy without fear,
And circle at his feet;
They whirl in many a lovely dance,
All beautiful and fleet.

High-hearted, brave they moce,
Daring his might breath;
Intrepid to the end, they tell
Their disregard of death.

Here is our lesson, Heart:
Let neither loss nor grief
Nor even death find us at last
Less valiant than a leaf.


This poem is in the public domain.