Page:Songs and Sonnets (1906).djvu/101



Spring first breathes on the russet hill,
 * In her own faint, lovely fashion,

One's pulses stir with a sudden thrill; But when Autumn comes the heart stands still.
 * Moved with a deeper passion.

There's a wonderful charm in the soft, still days
 * When earth to her rest is returning,

When the hills are drowned in a purple haze, When the wild grape sweetens, and all in a blaze
 * Of crimson the maples are turning.

Open thy gates, O heart of mine!
 * These are the days we have waited,

Put to thy lips the draught divine, These are the days that hold the wine
 * Of Summer concentrated.