"October" by West Virginia poet, Grace Yoke White, from her 1953 book "Unhoarded Gold".
What does it matter if my house is not swept,
Or my beds placed to air in a hygenic way?
For in through my window a birdcall crept,
And a red-throated songster hopped near to say:
"Come, share the joy of the fine autumn weather;
The goldenrod gleams near bypaths and roadways;
While tall, flaming asters, like purple heather,
Keep time as they nod at the birds through the day."
Come stand 'neath the trees, let the leaves drift around you--
The red and the brown, the crimson and gold;
Come, roam out of doors, in the sun and the dew;
Come, forget that time passes, that days will grow cold.
Come out in the sun and the soft autumn moon;
Let's enjoy the bright days and nights as they pass;
Come, gather the beauties that fade all too soon;
Come out in the open while the season lasts.