Remaining leaves fall all about;
Stubborn they remained ‘till the very end.
Ah, there they fall with a final shout.
The cold has lent to them
Their extraordinary colors.
Oh, but the rain falls now
It silvers the leafy forest ground.
The dying leaves have now been silvered
The dormant trees have now been silvered
The animals have now been silvered
Rainsilvered, I call it.
Ah, how God loves His colors!
He gives the leaves an honor
Of becoming beautiful before death.
Mightn't I, God, become beautiful as well?
Mightn't I fall with honor?
Mightn't I become rainsilvered?