Page:Recollections of Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1904).djvu/90



fall the leaves, blown by the Autumn blast,
 * In swirling heaps on the green sward they lie,
 * Sweet memories of the Springtime greenery

And the golden glories of Summer past. The last red flushes of the sinking sun
 * Shed over all a wondrous mystery,
 * On toil-worn age nearing eternity,

And the young hearts whose lives are but begun. And with departing light the conscience grieves
 * O'er bygone days, and golden hours misspent
 * In selfish deeds and empty merriment,

To find, where fruit should be, but withered leaves. .


 * February 27, 1891.