[Harvard Monthly 3.2 (November, 1886-1887), 52]

BETWEEN AUTUMN AND WINTER.

     The leaves fast fall.
     The skies with pall
Of heartless gray are covered.
     Loud roars the blast,
     To earth are cast
The latest leaves that hovered
     On topmost bough,
     Where whistle now
The winds of raging autumn.

     I care not much
     That at the touch
Of winter’s chilling finger,
     The skies once bright
     Evanish quite,
While gray and gloom long linger.
     We stay behind
     And here do find
Great joys despite the winter.

     With you, my love,
     All cares above,
So happy is my dwelling,
     I fervent pray
     That even May,
And of sweet buds the swelling
     Shall stay away
     Until the day
When we of love are weary.