All hushed of glee, br The last chill bee br Clings wearily br To the dying aster. br br The leaves dropp faster: br And all around, red as disaster, br The forest crimsons with tree on tree. br br A butterfly, br The last to die, br Wings heavily by, br Weighed down with torpor. br br The air grows sharper; br And the wind in the trees, like some sad harper, br Sits and sorrows with sigh on sigh. br br The far crows call; br The acorns fall; br And over all br The Autumn raises br Dun mists and hazes, br Through which her soul, it seemeth, gazes br On ghosts and dreams in carnival. br br The end is near; br The dying Year br Leans low to hear br Her own heart breaking, br And Beauty taking br Her flight, and all my dreams forsaking br My soul, bowed down 'mid the sad and sere.