It sings, and every flower and weed
Bestows a tributary seed
Of life again to live.
I listen, but a sterile tear,
Alas! no recompense to bear!
Is all I have to give.
’Tis said, in death, upon the face
Of Age, a momentary trace
Of Infancy’s returning grace
And here, in Autumn’s dusky reign,
A birth of blossom seems again
To flush the woodland’s fading train
With dreams of May.
In My Orange-Grove
Orbs of Autumnal beauty, breathed to light
From blooms of May,
Rounded between the touch of lengthening night
And lessening day,
Flushed with the Summer fulness that the Spring
(Fair seer!) foretold,
The circle of three seasons compassing
In spheres of gold.
Death in the house, and the golden-rod
A-bloom in the field!
O blossom, how, from the lifeless clod,
When the fires are out and the ashes cold,
Doth a vein that the miners know not, yield
Such wealth of gold?
Are you lost,
For a time to and fro
Must I go,
But a longer stay
Shall I make some day
When I come with my sister,
John B. Tabb 
For a recitation, click the play button:
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“Autumn Wind”: Later Lyrics, p. 76; Poetry, p. 51. 1902.
“Indian Summer”: Poems, p. 75; Poetry, p. 89. October 1887. Indian Summer is a warm spell when the leaves are in color.
“In My Orange-Grove”: Poems, p. 23; Poetry, p. 24. 1894.
“Autumn Gold”: Poems, p. 73; Poetry, p. 11. September 1892. Goldenrod is any of a large number of flowering plants (genus Solidago) that bloom in late Summer and Autumn, most bearing bright, golden-yellow flower heads.
“The Twins”: Poetry, p. 100. Undated. Jack Frost is the personification of crisp, cold weather.