The moon is like a scimitar,
A little silver scimitar,
A-drifting down the sky.
And near beside it is a star,
A timid twinkling golden star,
That watches like an eye.
And thro’ the nursery window-pane
The witches have a fire again,
Just like the ones we make,—
And now I know they’re having tea,
I wish they’d give a cup to me,
With witches’ currant cake.
Credits
Sara Teasdale was an American lyric poet, born in St. Louis in 1884, celebrated for her melodic verse and intimate emotional clarity. "Dusk in Autumn" showcases a rarely seen playful side of Teasdale, blending vivid natural imagery with a child's enchanting perspective on the season.
