These trees, whose branches swaying in the wind
Wave goodbye to receding Summer days
With red and yellow handkerchiefs, will find
Their shadows sharper now that there's no haze.

This sky, a deeper shade of blue, refined
By cold that sprinkles hoar-frost on the lawns
And brings the colour to the leaves, will find
A naked splendour in its chilly dawns.

This heart, which Spring and Summer hopes could blind
Till now, when at the waning of the year
It's forced to see things as they are, will find
A vision cool as Autumn and as clear.

 

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