FOUR SONGS OF FOUR SEASONS.
185
IV
AUTUMN IN CORNWALL.
The year lies fallen and faded
On cliffs by clouds invaded,
With tongues of storms upbraided,
With wrath of waves bedinned;
And inland, wild with warning,
As in deaf ears or scorning,
The clarion even and morning
Rings of the south‑west wind.
The wild bents wane and wither
In blasts whose breath bows hither
Their grey‑grown heads and thither,
Unblest of rain or sun;
