Autumn Song

Now the leaves are falling fast, Nurse's flowers will not last; Nurses to the graves are gone, And the prams go rolling on. Whispering neighbours, left and right, Pluck us from the real delight; And the active hands must freeze Lonely on the separate knees. Dead in hundreds at the back Follow wooden in our track, Arms raised stiffly to reprove In false attitudes of love. Starving through the leafless wood Trolls run scolding for their food; And the nightingale is dumb, And the angel will not come. Cold, impossible, ahead Lifts the mountain's lovely head Whose white waterfall could bless Travellers in their last distress.