Fair fallacy of Nature whose pale skies
Would cheat us with a mockery of Spring,
As though behind them undiscovered lies
The great renewal,—Indian Summer,—bring
Back to my heart the glory that was June,
Before the withered bud, the fallen leaf.
Mirage of Autumn hours—I commune
Once more with joy's fulfilment in the brief
Sweet ecstasy that you afford the heart.
I yield in acquiescence, lulled by scent
Wafted from breezes that have played their part
In softer moments; now, alas! but lent
By Nature in a garment of disguise
To blind, with sweets foregone, my willing eyes.