The Atlantic Monthly/Volume 18/Number 110/Autumn Song

by Forceythe Willson

 

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.

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