Late Leaves

 THE leaves are falling; so am I; 
The few late flowers have moisture in the eye; 
 So have I too.
 
Scarcely on any bough is heard 
Joyous, or even unjoyous, bird 
 The whole wood through.
 

Winter may come: he brings but nigher 
His circle (yearly narrowing) to the fire 
 Where old friends meet.
 
Let him; now heaven is overcast, 
And spring and summer both are past, 
 And all things sweet.

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