Come to the park they say is dead, and view <br />The shimmer of the smiling shores beyond, <br />The stainless clouds with unexpected blue <br />Diffuse a light on motley path and pond. <br />The tender grey, the burning yellow seize <br />Of birch and boxwood, mellow is the breeze. <br />Not wholly do the tardy roses wane, <br />So kiss and gather them and wreathe the chain. <br /> <br />The purple on the twists of wilding vine, <br />The last of asters you shall not forget, <br />And what of living verdure lingers yet, <br />Around the autumn vision lightly twine.<br /><br />Stefan Anton George<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/come-to-the-park-they-say-is-dead-and-view/
