Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf br How the heart feels a languid grief br Laid on it for a covering, br And how sleep seems a goodly thing br In Autumn at the fall of the leaf? br br And how the swift beat of the brain br Falters because it is in vain, br In Autumn at the fall of the leaf br Knowest thou not? and how the chief br Of joys seems—not to suffer pain? br br Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf br How the soul feels like a dried sheaf br Bound up at length for harvesting, br And how death seems a comely thing br In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?br br Dante Gabriel Rossettibr br