October
P
Paul Hamilton Hayne
0
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The passionate summer's dead! the sky's aglow
With roseate flushes of matured desire,
The winds at eve are musical and low,
As sweeping chords of a lamenting lyre,
Far up among the pillared clouds of fire,
Whose pomp of strange procession upward rolls,
With gorgeous blazonry of pictured scrolls,
To celebrate the summer's past renown;
Ah, me! how regally the heavens look down
O'ershadowing beautiful autumnal woods
And harvest fields with hoarded increase brown
And deep-toned majesty of golden floods
That raise their solemn dirges to the sky,
To swell the purple pomp that floateth by.
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
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