The late retarding and unsettled sun
Hangs in the air with distracted aim
Loosing the heart from distempered reason
To burn like autumn in low sullen flame

The year deepens and protracts the lesion
The heart surrenders to time and place
The leaves, casual and dull with dull adhesion 
Litter the garden bed, the green efface

As augers of some final desolation
But time delays, the year withholds the tides 
That feelings need to bring a consummation
It is despair unresolved that abides

Autumn's despair is summer's pride unending
Pride, that like summer's wealth assailed seems fallen 
Yet to greater resplendence bending
Your true perfection in despair is veiled