O, rosy-golden maple tree losing your full head of leafy locks
Stand rustle free in early morning's frosty breath and glow.

Sun's cool white light cannot touch the bite
Of frost on you o, glistening silent tree.

She cannot see sky through your thinning leafy locks o golden tree
But know it is clear because of intense frosty glowing light.

O, rosy maple tree you are stiffly standing like
Warm yellow flame encased in capsule of ice.

Drinking in your frosty flame already feeling sting of nostalgia's
Lonely longing, she knows vision will not linger long o icy tree.

Neither song nor sight of bird decorate your attire o silent tree
As if your golden, silver-frosted locks were enough.

O silvered maple tree your wet black bark wears
Sheath of frost like well fitting formal frock.

O lovely tree you wear perfume that only comes with fall--
Autumn musk no doubt, as it's fragrance becomes you now.

Imagination tastes maple syrup, bears plunk-plunk of drops in bucket
But that will be awful vision for coming spring a sleepy tree.

Your loosened locks lie as warm coverlet at your feet a frozen tree so
Are not wasted in spring you will again bear fresh green locks.