It is already Autumn, and not in my heart only, The leaves are on the ground, Green leaves untimely browned, The leaves bereft of Summer, my heart of Love left lonely. Swift, in the masque of seasons, the moment of each mummer, And even so fugitive Love's hour, Love's hour to live: Yet, leaves, ye have had your rapture, and thou, poor heart, thy Summer! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 54 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN NINETY-NINE IN THE SHADE by ROSSITER JOHNSON THREE STEPS by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE LAST MAN: A RUFFIAN by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES SONNET: HER WORST AND BEST by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON EROTIQUE by MAUD LUDINGTON CAIN |