Classic Poem

It seems like a dream
In the garden to-day;
The trees, once so green,
With rich colours are gay.

The oak is aglow
With a warm, crimson blush;
The maple leaves show
A deep purple flush.

The elm tree with bold
Yellow patches is bright,
And with pale gleaming gold
The beech seems alight.

And the creeper leaves flare
Like red flame on the wall;
Their dazzle and glare
Is the brightest of all.

The big chestnut trees
Are all russet and brown,
And everywhere leaves
One by one flutter down.

And all the leaves seem
To be dressed up so gay,
That it seems like a dream
In the garden to-day.