Page:The Golden Threshold.djvu/62

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

AUTUMN SONG

Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,
The sunset hangs on a cloud;
A golden storm of glittering sheaves,
Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves.
The wild wind blows in a cloud.

Hark to a voice that is calling
To my heart in the voice of the wind:
My heart is weary and sad and alone.
For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone.
And why should I stay behind?


52