Gold goes

October turned my maple’s leaves to gold;

The most are gone now; here and there one lingers.

Soon these will slip from out the twig’s weak hold,

Like coins between a dying miser’s fingers.

“Maple Leaves,’’ by Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836-1907), American editor (including of the Boston-based Atlantic Monthly) poet, critic and native of Portsmouth, N.H., about which he wrote with affection.

I 853 print