Green in her mem’ry Short in a rev’rie Keen as a seagull’s cry ...
Too soon to waken Too late to stake in Ardour of springtime’s lie ...
There is a sudden flicker in the eye of light That brings to life a plethora of colour Despite autumnal despondentia in sight Our blessing’s vision swiftly may recover
What it has lost; the hopes by wingéd wind Recur anon, resuscitate and fade: Though wills of might the law must needs rescind It shall the gatherings implacably pervade —
The gatherings of thought on her autumnal brow: Severe and yet of mercy’s chosen books — Where do you go, pray tell me, now? What is it now that no delay, if little, brooks?
“I am going for Erde — for Earth — Dar Eorphe esith kaleden It is ever my wont to begirth That undone, those unruled, ever then.”
*2
Lakes in her vision Fought with decision Folding along the clash ...
Mirrors of starlings Preciously darlings Bright as a cosmic flash ...
In golden lines the dawn embroidered high In pools of red some scatterings of cloud In mantle of the saddest brown bedight Her dexter arm set forth, she quoth aloud:
Rally to me, she said, the scions here beset With thousand wheels your chariots endowed By wingéd wind the season’s hopes be let Unto your children, futurely becrowned
There is a quiet tremor in the stillest night That will evoke the suddenness of autumn The shimmering of droplets in their flight From cobwebs swiftly stirred unthoughten ...
“I am glad of the fields that were green Even though by my hand they are brown Not in deathness may they be serene But retaining the summer’s renown.”
*3
Many have seen it Less than a minute Sheer as a highland’s fall ...
Storm and fair weather — Light as a feather — Are interleaved in all ...
Not that there are too many who will ask With no pretence of their own destiny: What is the measure of my greatest task? Have I discovered truly what I need?
But at the moment of our inmost cry The succoured pity to the ones we loved Shall rampantly well up the channels dry And, bending to and fro, pulsingly lined
Shall mark the peaks in points of marble white Shall bring to life a plethora of colour By wingéd wind it shall in hopes appear bedight Albeit never was divested of their cover ...
“Come embrace me, my seasonal friend In our parting we heartily met You your shelter release as you lend I my power forego as I let ...”
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