Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods, <br />And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt, <br />And night by night the monitory blast <br />Wails in the key-hold, telling how it pass'd <br />O'er empty fields, or upland solitudes, <br />Or grim wide wave; and now the power is felt <br />Of melancholy, tenderer in its moods <br />Than any joy indulgent summer dealt. <br />Dear friends, together in the glimmering eve, <br />Pensive and glad, with tones that recognise <br />The soft invisible dew in each one's eyes, <br />It may be, somewhat thus we shall have leave <br />To walk with memory,--when distant lies <br />Poor Earth, where we were wont to live and grieve.<br /><br />William Allingham<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/autumnal-sonnet/
