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 soulAre set to the passionate griefOf winds that sough and bells that tollThe dirge of the falling leaf.

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