"Beautifully dies the year"

Beautifully dies the year.

Silence sleeps upon the mere:

Yellow leaves float on it, stilly

As, in June, the opened lily.

Brushing o'er the frosty grass

I watch a moment, ere I pass,

From beeches that will soon be bare

Down the still November air

The lovely ways of gliding leaves.

Perhaps they budded on Spring eves

When we two walked and talked together!

Autumn thoughts for Autumn weather!

I wish some days that I remember

Could glide from me, this fair November.