- THE LEAVES
THE first dead leaves of the year are down!
Look, how pale they float,
Under the bridge of the market-town
By wharf and barge and boat!
How cold the rain-drenched meadows lie,
Heavy with mist each one!
And the elm-trees stand how silently
Against the horizon!
Oh, Love, oh, Life, most strange, most blind
Are our days beneath the sun!
A leaf on the water; on the wind
A feather — and all is done.
The market-town still sleeps — Sweet Christ,
How motionless it seems!
As if one night of rain sufficed
To cover it with dreams.
Can it be only yesterday.
On this same bridge I stood.
And watched the red sun sink away
Behind a fairy wood?
The gods protect us all! So soon
Can summer cease? So light
Can they drift, the leaves that played love's tune?
Can the world end in a night?
