Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Autumn

by Florence Earle Coates

Not to be confused with Autumn (Coates, "We ne'er will part!" Ah me, what plaintive sounds").

For other versions of this work, see Autumn (Coates, "In her arms unconscious lying").

AUTUMN

IN her arms unconscious lying,
Cytherea's love is dying.
On the hill and in the valley,
Through the grove and sun-lit alley,
Drooping flower and fading leaf
⁠Share her grief.
But in realms of gloom and night
Proserpine enwreathes her hair,
And a gleam of tender light
Seems to pierce the darkness there:
"Ah!" she sighs, "I long have waited
With the calm of hopeless pain,
But to me, the sorrow-fated,
Comes the lost one back again!
Lovely things that seem to die
Hither now will quickly hie,
And to-morrow, in the gloom
Of this sad and sunless tomb,
Butterflies will lightly hover,
As o'er meadows fair;" she saith,
"For Adonis brings the clover
⁠With his breath!"