Comes peltering down and goes stripping the
leaves,
And smokes in cold spray from the edge of the
eaves.
All, it’s wild out of doors, but come in here with
me
Where mother’s as busy as busy can be.
And you need not your eyes, sir, to know it is fall
In this stifle and stirring and steam like a pall.
For there’s savor of spices and odorous charms