Poems (Scudder)/Autumn
For works with similar titles, see Autumn.
AUTUMN
As Lais, Corinth's fairest courtesan Knowing her beauty had begun to fade Lest any matron, any shrill-voiced maid Should mock her, straight renounced all love of man—And hung her polished silver mirror high On Venus' statue where it might reflect Only the clouds with changing colors decked, The azure, snow and opal of the sky—So now doth autumn turn away her head To hide the touch of frost on velvet-red Of dahlias, on the perfumed cream and pink Of garden-asters on the maples' gold, And dreading her own image to behold Fills every pool with dead leaves to the brink.