Over the treetops baring for winter Zephyrs breathing a lulling croon, Over the meadowland, hither and hinter, A full gold moon. Over the housetops, comb to eaves, Over the bluegrass, sear in the sun, Lie the flat brown corpses of leaves, Summer is done. Tardily bred from chrysalis Seasonal butterflies flit and nod, Stopping awhile to cicatrize Rank goldenrod. And a lonely soul of man's degree With lingering hope sublime Walks the shore of a skyey sea, Marks time, marks time. |