But we sit brooding while the ashes fall,
Cowering over an old fire that dwindles,
Waiting for nothing at all.
An End
I have no heart for any other joy,
The drenched September day turns to depart,
And I have said good-bye to what I love;
With my own will I vanquished my own heart.
On the long wind I hear the winter coming,
The window panes are cold and blind with rain;