Buckwheat Cakes

Now the frost is in the air,

Blue the haze at early dawn.

There is color everywhere,

Old and ragged looks the lawn.

Autumn's resting on the hills,

Harvested are fruit and grain,

And the home with gladness thrills,

Buckwheat cakes are back again!

Every season has its joys,

Every day its touch of mirth.

For us all - both girls and boys,

God has well supplied the Earth.

What if care must fall between

Peace and pleasure now and then?

Autumn holds this happy scene:

Buckwheat cakes are back again!

Time and trouble change us all,

Youth gives way to middle age.

One by one our fancies fall,

'Til we reach life's final stage.

But in spite of aches and pains,

And the difference old age makes,

Man devoted still remains,

To a stack of buckwheat cakes.

- Edgar A. Guest.