i roam the woods that crown the hill i live on

the sun is low on the western horizon.

time to go and see the woods

before the rain and winds of the coming days

convince them to shed their summer dresses

and prepare for the wintry blasts

that are surely coming our way!

'neath you crimson tree,

lover to listening maid might breathe his flame . . .

"the summer tresses of the trees are gone, 
the woods of autumn, all around our vale,
have put their glory on"

i roam the woods that crown 
the uplands, where the mingled splendors glow . . .

forever in thy coloured shades to stray . . . 

all text (in pale grey) william cullen bryant