Song of Autumn I

 Soon into frozen shades, like leaves, we'll tumble.

Adieu, short summer's blaze, that shone to mock.

I hear already the funereal rumble

Of logs, as on the paving-stones they shock.

Winter will enter in my soul to dwell —

Rage, hate, fear, horror, labour forced and dire!

My heart will seem, to sun that polar hell,

A dim, red, frozen block, devoid of fire.

Shuddering I hear the heavy thud of fuel.

The building of a gallows sounds as good!

My spirit, like a tower, reels to the cruel

Battering-ram in every crash of wood.

The ceaseless echoes rock me and appal.

They're nailing up a coffin, I'll be bound,

For whom? — Last night was Summer. Here's the Fall.

There booms a farewell volley in the sound.