Classic Poem

The nights are colder than they was,
The days are shorter, too;
The starry light
Shines out to-night
From skies of deeper blue.
The green that lies along the hills
Is turning brown an' sear —
Yet I don't need
No signs to read
Tp know the time o' year.

An' I don't need no almanac
To tell what time it is,
No Autumn haze
An' shorter days
An' all that kind of biz.
Lord! Don't I know the Fall is here
When loud the nightwind groans?
Lord! Don't I know
The season though? —
I feel it in my bones.

I'm tuggin' at this city leash
Like forty-seven dawgs;
I'm wishin' for
The shanty floor,
The timber an' the lawgs.
I'm longin' for the wanigan,
The tote-road an' it all —
Lord! Can't the jacks
Who swing the ax
Remember when it's Fall?

A little more an' it will snow
Up in the woods again;
A little more
The wind'll roar,
A little more an' then
In Michigan the nights will be
All sky an' moon an' stars —
An' then I'll pack
A little snack
An' hike to beat the cars.

The woods they call you in the Spring
When days are warm an' fair,
When robins sing
An' blossoms fling
Their perfume on the air.
They call to you in Summertime
When in the town you sweat,
But in the Fall
Oh, then they call,
They call you louder yet.

Give me the old October woods
When leaves are turnin' brown;
The smell o' pine
Is finer wine
Than any in the town.
Give me the old December snow
That turns the world to white
Up there in Mich. —
Oh, Lord, I wish
That I was there to-night!