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Page:Mandragora.djvu/49

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THE LEAVES

THE first dead leaves of the year are down!
Look, how pale they float,
Under the bridge of the market-town
    By wharf and barge and boat!
How cold the rain-drenched meadows lie,
    Heavy with mist each one!
And the elm-trees stand how silently
    Against the horizon!

Oh, Love, oh, Life, most strange, most blind
    Are our days beneath the sun!
A leaf on the water; on the wind
    A feather — and all is done.
The market-town still sleeps — Sweet Christ,
    How motionless it seems!
As if one night of rain sufficed
    To cover it with dreams.

Can it be only yesterday.
    On this same bridge I stood.
And watched the red sun sink away
    Behind a fairy wood?
The gods protect us all! So soon
    Can summer cease? So light
Can they drift, the leaves that played love's tune?
    Can the world end in a night?