nt! with winds that pinch and twist
The leaves in their peevish passion, and whirl wherever they list;
With the autumn, hoary and nipping, whose mausolean mist

Builds wan a tomb for the daylight;--each morning shaggy with fog,
That fits grey wigs to the cedars, and furs with frost each log;
That carpets with pearl the meadow, and marbles brook and bog,--

Alone at dawn--indifferent: alone at eve--I sigh:
And wait, like the wind complaining: complain and know not why:
But ailing and longing and pining because I do not die.

How dull is that sunset! dreary and cold, and hard and dead!
The ghost of the one last August that, deeply rich and red,
Like the wine of God's own vintage, poured purple overhead.

But now I sit with the sighing dead dreams of a dying year;
Like the fallen leaves and the acorns, am worthless and feel as sear,
With a withered soul and body whose heart is one big tear.

As I stare from my window the daylight, like a bravo, its cloak puts
on.
The moon, like a cautious lanthorn, glitters and then is gone.--
Will he come to-night? will he answer?--Oh, God! would it were dawn!

9

_He enters. Taking her in his arms he speaks._

They said you were dying--
You shall not die!...
Why are you crying?
Why do you sigh?--
Cease that sad sighing!--
Love, it is I.

All is forgiven!--
Love is not poor;
Though he was driven
Once from your door,
Back he has striven,
To part nevermore!

Will you remember
What I forget?--
Words, each an ember,
That you regret?
Now in November,
Now we have met?

What if love wept once!
What though you knew!
What if he crept once
Pleading to you!--
He never slept once,
Nor was untrue.

Often forgetful,
Love may forget;
Froward and fretful,
Dear, he will fret;
Ever regretful,
He will regret.

Life is completer
Through his control;
Living made sweeter
Even through dole,
Hearing Love's metre
Sing in the soul.

Flesh may not hear it,
Being impure;
And mind may fear it,
May not endure;
But in the spirit--
There we are sure.

So when to-morrow
Ceases, and we
Quit this we borrow,
Mortality,
Love chastens sorrow
So it can see....

Still you are weeping!
Why do you weep?--
Are tears in keeping
With joy so deep?
Gladness so sweeping?--
Are yo