Near Autumn[ToC]
Red apple in the leaves,
Red robin on the bough,
The oats are all in sheaves—
Where's summer now?
White foam along the sea,
White mist upon the dawn,
No flower for the bee—
'Tis summer gone.
Black bird is silent, lone,
Black berry decks the spray;
And Autumn's breath has blown
Upon the day.
Longueil.
November[ToC]
The grey clouds hide the sun now
And the leaves flow down with the rain:
The golden days are done now
And Winter looms again.