AUTUMN 67 



Anon a tempest rises in her soul, 

 And flashes fires of anguish from her eyes, 

 While round about the angry thunders roll, 

 And groans and shrieks assail the heedless skies ; 

 But soon the passionate fire falls down and dies. 



Then sinks the queenly head upon her hands 

 A broken flower ; then loosed are sorrow's bands ; 

 Like winds in leafless tree-tops come her sighs, 

 Like flooded streams her tears ; till, worn with woe, 

 She thinks no more upon her golden gain 

 Reft from her of her glory all laid low ; 

 Her vines and orchards stript, her flowers dead ; 

 But watches as the frost-breath o'er the plain 

 Steals slowly ; draws her mantle o'er her head, 

 And waits the cold inevitable chain. 



So much for Autumn. But what do the dying 

 leaves say who ' leave their buds behind ' ? That 

 makes a difference. This is their farewell : 



SONG OF THE DYING LEAVES 



' FAREWELL ! ' the brown leaves sigh, 

 ' Farewell ! we needs must go ! ' 



Trembling they fly, then fall and die, 

 Sighing and murmuring low. 



' Farewell, summer breeze, 



Playmate of golden hours ! 

 Seek us no more on the tall swaying trees, 



But with the dying flowers. 



K 2 



