Autumn Song


Violins complain
Of autumn again,
They sob and moan.
And my heartstrings ache
Like the song they make,
A monotone.

Suffocating, drowned,
And hollowly, sound
The midnight chimes.
Then the days return
I knew, and I mourn
For bygone times.

And I fall and drift
With the winds that lift
My heavy grief.
Here and there they blow,
And I rise and go
Like a dead leaf.


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Autumn Song


With long sobs
the violin-throbs
of autumn wound
my heart with languorous
and monotonous
sound.

Choking and pale
When I mind the tale
the hours keep,
my memory strays
down other days
and I weep;

and I let me go
where ill winds blow
now here, now there,
harried and sped,
even as a dead
leaf, anywhere.


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