They wake to the summer summing up
In a few fresh asters
All the fall has mastered
They remember to take
Something with them into winter
They believe the spring will never come
Right up out of the catalogues
The disasters of their dreams
They keep quaint in high esteem
Preferring the old elegances
Preparing to grow the snow
In varied drifts of grief
Combining all their beds and fields
In a final flower show
No comments:
Post a Comment