Trees impend where wends the rhyming lantern-bearer; he that leans, finally and over
time repaints a night with ballads of his days as banner-holder;
teaked with ale, relates the autumn will, ascance, before him wailing dry.
FALL
The leaves a russet fever,
the air breathes in their flavor,
the sun eclipsed in slumber;
my eyes now taking labor
to feel the blood of summer,
the taste too bright to savor.
To witness grazing razor
of beauty�s feast on leisure!
The peak of summer�s seizure
the birth of autumn�s favor,
the brink of winter�s features
cut pale the reigning splendor!
Then season swallows season;
all weary skins are pastured.