Indian Summer

I HAVE strayed from silent places,

Where the days are dreaming always;

And fair summer lies a-dying,

Roses withered on her breast.

I have stolen all her beauty,

All her softness, all her sweetness;

In her robe of folden sunshine

I am drest.

I will breathe a mist about me

Lest you see my face too clearly,

Lest you follow me too boldly

I will silence every song.

Through the haze and through the silence

You will know that I am passing;

When you break the spell that holds you,

I am gone!