This opulent earth, this wealth, these incredible red leaves
Once were ours, ours more than other seasons. drunken,
(Autumn Triumphant, I called you.) Now in alternate gloom and stealth
Such is our habit now, that hides and grieves —
Over the frozen field, in a shrunken place here two months hence
I see clouds moving winter-dull and dense;
Over the gathered sheaves, over this opulent earth,
Over this wealth, these incredible red leaves The shadows come in winter-darkened patches.
Oh, the heart matches winter better now.
Oh, the sense
Remembers the red chaos, the melancholy red,
The sorrow, the madness; no, it will no longer remember.
Winter, winter wind, blow clutter clean.
Winter, winter wind, blow clutter clean.
Begin, begin, begin,
Begin again.
Leave a Reply