AUTUMN
Reading edition
Red as blood is Autumn’s gown, And a flaming fire her crown. And her fingers sere and scorch, Each one a destroying torch. Fever follows in her wake, Nor the dews her thirst can slake. In her kisses there is death, And decay in every breath. She makes tombs of what were bowers, Strewn with corses of dead flowers. To the loftiest leaves that wave She but whispers of a grave.