I have been through the woods to-day <br />And the leaves were falling, <br />Summer had crept away, <br />And the birds were not calling. <br /> <br />And the bracken was like yellow gold <br />That comes too late, <br />When the heart is sad and old, <br />And death at the gate. <br /> <br />Ah, mournful Autumn ! Sad, <br />Slow death that comes at last, <br />I am mad for a yesterday, mad ! <br />I am sick for a year that is past! <br /> <br />Though the sun be like blood in the sky <br />He is cold as the lips of hate, <br />And he fires the sere leaves as they lie <br />On their bed of earth, too late. <br /> <br />They are dead, and the bare trees weep <br />Not loud as a mortal weeping, <br />But as sorrow that sighs in sleep, <br />And as grief that is still in sleeping.<br /><br />Lord Alfred Douglas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/autumn-days-7/
