And the fairest coloring that ever was seen
She had left on that maple tree.
There was red of every possible hue,
There was yellow of every dye,
From the faintest straw-tint to orange bright,
Fluttering, waving, flashing in light,
With the delicate green leaves still in sight,
Peeping out at the sunset sky.
She had touched the beech, and the scraggy thing
In a bright new suit was dressed;