When May returns, this Autumn Leaf think on.
Some portent of its` past may linger yet
And though its potency be all but gone
Remembrance of its work may yet be met.
So, my love is in the autumn of its years
But your years move on to greener grass.
Forget not this leaf, but shed no tears
As, floating down, its strength doth pass;
But in one last whisk of wind, it dares
To love again a season that is young and bright
Supple, sure and bold, drawing from the sun
The very staff of life; a wondrous light.
This love, unspoken, must its’ course be run.
And autumn leaf at last doth softly breath’s
Then, finally, this leaf descends and leaves.