Vae Victis!

Here in this isle

The summer still lingers,

And Autumn's brown fingers

    So busy the while

    With the leaves in the north;

    Are scarcely put forth

In this land where the sun still glows like an ember,.

    In mid-November.

    In England it's cold,

And the yellow and red

Of October have fled ;

    And the sun is wet gold

    Like an emperor weeping,

    When Death goes a-reaping

All through his empire, merciless comer

    The dead things of summer.

    The sky has cried so

That the earth is all sodden,

With dead leaves in-trodden,

    And the trees to and fro

    Wave their arms in the air

    In despair, in despair :

They are thinking of all the hot days that are over,

    And the cows in the clover.

    Here the roses are out,

And the sun at high noon

Makes the birds faint and swoon.

    But the cricket's about

    With his song, and the hum

    Of the bees as they come

To feast at the honey-board laden and groaning,

    Makes musical droning.

    But vainly, alas !

Do I hide in the south,

Kiss close with my mouth

    Red flowers, green grass,

    For Autumn has found me

    And thrown her arms around me.

She has breathed on my lips and I wander apart,

    Dead leaves in my heart.