From an Old Garden (Cloud)/"De garden hit's all pupple"

by Virginia Woodward Cloud

In Autumn

—De garden hit's all pupple,
 'scusin' de yaller'n raid,
Mos' lak dis hank'chief
 I weahs on mah haid.
De aster an' de gol'nrod's
 a-troopin' down de hill,
An' ole Brer Win' ain' lettin' on
 he's feelin' mighty chill!

But down in de wood's pa'f,
 longside de stream,
Seem lak I'm a-walkin' inter
 somebuddy's dream.
Dee ain' no birds a-flyin'
 ter de raid creeper-vine;
De trees all hol' dey brefs,—
 Somebuddy's bu'nin' pine. . . . .

De dusk hit tu'ns gray early, 'n
mah cannle's soon lit,
But 'tain' time fo' nuffin
 'cep' ter rock an' ter sit,
Studyin' on de col' nights,
 when things ain' bloom no mo'. . .
Den I lights up de fiah,
 an' up'n shets de do';

An' I 'members 'bout a night
 when de Lord done come,
An' met wid all dem in a
 lil small room . . . . . .
Ole Win' he sen' de leaves down
 wid a sof', rockin' sweep . . . . . .
'N I knows de garden's lak we-all—
  hit's des
::hit's desgoin'
::hit's desgoin'ter sleep!