Richard Middleton (1889-1911)
AUTUMNAL
Across the scented gardens of my dreams
Where roses grew, Time passes like a thief,
Among my trees his siver sickle gleams,
The grass is stained with many a ruddy leaf;
And on cold winds the petals float away
That were the pride of June and her array.
The bare boughs weave a net upon the sky
To catch Love's wings and his fair body bruise;
There are no flowers in the rosary -
No song-birds in the mournful avenues; ...