 | Picked Poems |  |
141
IV
The summer folk, fled back to town;
The green woods changed to red and brown;
A sound upon the frosty air
Of windows closing everywhere.
The green woods changed to red and brown;
A sound upon the frosty air
Of windows closing everywhere.
And then the log, lapped by a blaze.
Oh, what is better than these days;
With books and friends and love a-near;
Go on, gay world, but leave me here.
Oh, what is better than these days;
With books and friends and love a-near;
Go on, gay world, but leave me here.
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