Oak-Leaves

Crinkled oak-leaves, twinkling in the sun, Splashed by midday showers, dripping cold— Serrate oak-leaves, silvered by the sun That has brushed yon dull brown grass with gold. Green and crinkled oak leaves, tremble now— Strong you would be, strong would be and bold, Ah! green oak-leaves, you are trembling now— By the saucy wind deceived—cajoled! Trembling oak leaves—you are soon to fall, Soon to hide the earth with yellowing mould Twinkling, crinkling oak-leaves, soon you'll fall For the autumn sun is shining cold.