Spring And Autumn

The painted World has laid her jewels down, Let fall the pinchbeck hair about her face And croons a love song. In a far-off place Where she was strutting in her silken gown She met the Youth. His face was young and brown. "Good day to you," she cried, the frosty lace About her shoulders trembled. Ah--disgrace! He turned, and left her weeping in the town. She smiles not any more, her heart disdains The wind's rough courting, loud and indiscreet. Her tears dissolve the earth in ceaseless rains And though her searching steps be light and fleet Through frowning city or soft country lanes, Now never more may Spring and Autumn meet.