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Fading Days
Fading Days

Filled with a quiet sadness nigh to tears,
When tears come fresh from no ungentle spring,
Beside this stream, whose tongue runs faltering,
I watch this graceful fading of the year's.
A breeze shakes all the host of grassy spears,
Rustling their faded pennants where they cling,
A brown rust widens round the fairies' ring,
Pale on each bough a dying grace appears.
The air is tremulous with hovering fears,
Each moment some loved charm is taking wing;
For every pearl that falls from summer's string
Dies in my breast some song her love endears.
O autumn, haste! blow fresh through heart and brain
The riper notes of thy reviving strain!

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