letra de autumn day - anne clark
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lord, it is time. the summer was so great
impose upon the sundials now your shadows
and around the meadows let the winds rotate
commands the last fruits to incarnadine;
vouchsafe, to urge them on into completeness
yet two more south-like days; and that last sweetness
inveigle it into the heavy vine
he’ll not build now, who has no house awaiting
who’s now alone, for long will so remain:
sit late, read, write long letters, and again
return to restlessly perambulating
the avеnues of parks when leavеs downrain
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