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 soul
Are set to the passionate grief
Of winds that sough and bells that toll
The dirge of the falling leaf.