Author Karle Wilson Baker The maple-trees are turning ā Their flames leap ever higher; All day my heart is burning In the rose-colored fire. Like ashes, grey and tarnished, My sins are sifting down: I'll have a heart fire-burnished To carry back to town! Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments