Autumn Song

Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,

   The sunset hangs on a cloud;

A golden storm of glittering sheaves,

Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves,

   The wild wind blows in a cloud.

Hark to a voice that is calling

   To my heart in the voice of the wind:

My heart is weary and sad and alone,

For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone,

   And why should I stay behind?