The Breeze of Autumn

It was a cold and breezy night,
And all in the land were in sight,
When the last bird sang in pleasure,
Speaking of the morning treasure,
I was in my bed,
Feeling good in my homestead,
When no joy could surpass,
There was fog on the glass,
Everything was so quiet and still,
From valley to farther uphill,
And I thought to myself as the wind screamed at the trees,
Oh, what can be better than a autumn breeze?