I heard the football of the hail;
The armies of the sky
Were coming down amid the gale,
And rank on rank marched by.

I heard the thunder's cannonade,
The beating of his drum;
I saw the lightning's flashing blade--
The hosts of heaven had come!

The mighty legions crossed the roofs
And stormed the distant hill;
Faint grew the sound of tramping hoofs,
And lo! then all was still.

At morn I saw dead crimson leaves
Far o'er the wide world tossed;
And now the lonely Autumn grieves
For all that she has lost.