Poems By Mary Elizabeth Coleridge |
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| CIX. | CIXSEPTEMBER |
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 | Poems |  |
112
CIX
SEPTEMBER
Now every day the bracken browner grows,
Even the purple stars
Of clematis, that shone about the bars,
Grow browner; and the little autumn rose
Dons, for her rosy gown,
Sad weeds of brown.
Even the purple stars
Of clematis, that shone about the bars,
Grow browner; and the little autumn rose
Dons, for her rosy gown,
Sad weeds of brown.
Now falls the eve; and ere the morning sun,
Many a flower her sweet life will have lost,
Slain by the bitter frost,
Who slays the butterflies also, one by one;
The tiny beasts
That go about their business and their feasts.
Many a flower her sweet life will have lost,
Slain by the bitter frost,
Who slays the butterflies also, one by one;
The tiny beasts
That go about their business and their feasts.
| Poems | |