The first few desultory leaves drift down And morning chill invigorates the blood, The wisps of vapours on the lake have grown, Their billowing presence heralds autumn's mood.
Summer yawns, her labour now complete She is content to rest, prepares to die The yearly death at winter's frost-white feet, While in the earth her seeds embedded lie
Sustained by faith; their atoms energy Pent within the core move slowly now Confident of the Mother's mastery Sleep and dream as nature will allow,
Of growth that leads to fruitful blossoming, Renascent joy from frozen stillness wakes, Headlong rushes into the arms of Spring. The Epiphany my wintry sorrow breaks.
For Mary Helen
Poems Undated (1727)
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