V—The Coming of Winter
A chill, damp west wind and a heavy sky,
With clouds that merge in one gray, darkling sea,
The last red leaves of autumn flutter by,
Wrest from the dead twigs of the street-side tree;
And then there comes an eddying cloud of white,
First dim, then blotting everything below;
Up to the eaves the sparrows haste in flight—
And thus upon the town descends the snow.