In Divers Tones

by Charles G.D. Roberts

Edited by Tracy Ware


 

A SONG OF REGRET


 

In the southward sky
The late swallows fly,
   The low red willows
      In the river quiver;
From the beeches nigh
5
Russet leaves sail by,
   The tawny billows
      In the chill wind shiver;
The beech-burrs burst,
   And the nuts down-patter;
10
   The red squirrels chatter
O’er the wealth disperst.

Yon carmine glare
Would the west outdare;—
   ’Tis the Fall attire

15
      Of the maples flaming.
In the keen late air
Is an impulse rare
   A sting like fire,
      A desire past naming.
20
But the crisp mists rise
   And my heart falls a-sighing,—
   Sighing, sighing
That the sweet time dies!