Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Autumn

For works with similar titles, see Autumn.

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").

←Memory

Poems, Volume I by Florence Earle Coates Autumn

Joan of Arc→

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 Proserpina 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!"