Poems (Rossetti, 1901)/Bitter for Sweet
BITTER FOR SWEET
SUMMER is gone with all its roses, Its sun and perfumes and sweet flowers, Its warm air and refreshing showers: And even Autumn closes.
Yea, Autumn's chilly self is going, And winter comes which is yet colder: Each day the hoar-frost waxes bolder; And the last buds cease blowing.