Autumn in New England
 

Autumn in New England,
Gold on all the trees,
Rust and fire a-glowing
And blowing in the breeze.

Treasure in the branches,
And strewn upon the ground,
A fortune for New England,
So free and all around.

The fruit smells sweet and ready,
The apples glow with pride
And blush and shine so brightly,
Like a newly wedded bride.

The sun sets on New England,
To chill the windswept coast,
It turns the leaves to dull red coals,
A burning, smouldering host.