SPRING AND AUTUMN

The painted World has laid her jewels down,

Let fall the pinchbeck hair about her face

And croons a love song. In a far-off place

Where she was strutting in her silken gown

She met the Youth. His face was young and brown.

“Good day to you,” she cried, the frosty lace

About her shoulders trembled. Ah — disgrace!

He turned, and left her weeping in the town.

She smiles not any more, her heart disdains

The wind's rough courting, loud and indiscreet.

Her tears dissolve the earth in ceaseless rains

And though her searching steps be light and fleet

Through frowning city or soft country lanes,

Now never more may Spring and Autumn meet.