Autumn.
In Rissington Valley, H. B.

In a valley, deep, secluded,
Where the guarding cliffs tower high,
Glows a fairyland of colour,
As bright autumn days glide by.
Graceful elms and basket willows
Vie with poplars straight and tall,
Filling that fair glade with splendour,
Vivid, gleaming, golden all.
There a placid, dreaming river
Wanders idly to the sea;
There the whispering, crooning breezes
Gently shake each painted tree,
Till the leaves fall down in showers,
Carpeting the ground with gold;
Making there a magic picture,
Gorgeous, wondrous to behold.

V. May Cottrell.

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