Enough of languishing
Under sheltering palms;
She needs a sharper clime,
A fresh wind from the north

Redolent of hemlock,
Of cedar swamps and spruce
And evergreen essence
Of pine and tamarack.

But mostly, need of place,
A home she's known life-long
Where she can count her time
In each year's grand farewell;

In cedar-time cycle
Of full-blown Indian summer;
Morning haze, sun bursting
On glory of earth's turning.

In heady potpourri
Of faded marigolds,
Ripe apples and damp earth
Wood smoke and falling leaves.

Family, home town, old friends,
And the timeless miracle
Of bold, brazen, glorious
New England autumn.