Autumn, too, is the theme of this:
She-e-e! She-e-e! She-e-e-e!
The soughing wind doth breathe.
The white-crest cloud hath drabbed
At season’s late. The trees drip leaf-waste
Unto the o’erloved blades aneath,
Who burned o’ love, to die.
’Tis the parting o’ the season.
Yea, and earth doth weep. The mellow moon
Stands high o’er golded grain. The cot-smoke