A fiery clown has come down
Over forests, lanes and towns.
No trumpets blown, no drums rolled,
Out of the morning mists he strolled.
Yello! Yello! It's party-time!,
He smiled. His reds and golds he sprayed around.
And God's whole house was swathed with hues untold.
All about the orange glowed, crimson leaves displayed.
The ceiling now was light with blue.
Gardens, hedges, horizons luminesced.
And in men's hearts was measured joyful rest.
And some did overflow, who in gold were dressed.
The party clown fills his weeks,
Fills the lanes and fills the streets,
With all his fallen finery.
We rake up and try to tidy.