October

Across the land a faint blue veil of mist Seems hung; the woods wear yet arrayment sober Till frost shall make them flame; silent and whist The drooping cherry orchards of October Like mournful pennons hang their shrivelling leaves Russet and orange: all things now decay; Long since ye garnered in your autumn sheaves, And sad the robins pipe at set of day. Now do ye dream of Spring when greening shaws Confer with the shrewd breezes, and of slopes Flower-kirtled, and of April, virgin guest; Days that ye love, despite their windy flaws, Since they are woven with all joys and hopes Whereof ye nevermore shall be possessed.