INDIAN SUMMERS
(1)
The Day of Falling Leaves
When gold October reaves
The May's
Lost Roundelays,
When Autumn stoops to list
The wind, mad organist,
Pipe tunes
Of dancing Junes,
And Autumn's butterflies
Drift earthward, petal-wise,
A-swing
On perilous wing,—
(2)
So, in our passion's death,
When knowledge whispereth
With wise
Unholy eyes,
And thy sweet flowered mouth
Is grey with Autumn's drouth
And love
Dreams not thereof,
Our Day of Falling Leaves
Calls back the Spring, deceives
The sense
With transience.