How delicately steps the autumn day
In azure cloak and gown of ashen grey
Over the level country that I love!
With glittering veils of light about her head
And skirts of wide horizons round her spread
White as the white wing-feathers of a dove.
Her feet, a flash of silver on the sea,
Chase silver sails that fly untiringly
Towards the enchanted Islands of the West.
Beautiful Islands, gardens of delight!
That flower at dawn with roses red and white . . .
And flame at sunset gold and amethyst . . .
How delicately steps the autumn day
In azure cloak and gown of ashen grey
Over the level country that I love . . .
And how my heart that all sweet things beguile
Goes laughing with her for a little while . . .
And then turns homeward like a weary dove.