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Dante Gabriel Rossetti | Autumn Song, 1848

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
⁠Laid on it for a covering,
⁠And how sleep seems a goodly thing
In autumn at the fall of the leaf?

And how the swift heat of the brain
Falters because it is in vain



⁠In autumn at the fall of the leaf,
⁠Knowest thou not? - and how the chief
Of joys seems not to suffer pain.

Know'st thou and at the fall of the leaf
How the soul feels like a dried sheaf
⁠Bound up at length for harvesting,
⁠And how death seems a comely thing
In autumn at the fall of the leaf?