Autumn Song

In Spring the Poet is glad, And in Summer the Poet is gay; But in Autumn the Poet is sad, And has something sad to say:

For the wind moans in the wood, And the leaf drops from the tree; And the cold rain falls on the graves of the good, And the cold mist comes up from the sea:

And the Autumn songs of the Poet's soul Are set to the passionate grief Of winds that sough and bells that toll The dirge of the falling leaf.