Forever Autumn. The robin sings a Why summer's throng How thin this song As if a strand as
Season of its own:
a sad refrain
Belonging yet apart.
I scarce can say
Exactly what is wrong:
Why spring is edged
with ice -
Of foliage and flower
Stills turns the eye
Unerringly from light.
and sad:
How drawn it seems
From cold-condensing air -
Tenuous as silk
To float and fade
Through gossamers
of mist.