 | Dirge for Aoine and other poems |  |
xxvi
SEPTEMBER
I am of many moods and many shapes;
I strip the chestnut and I tread the grapes.
I strip the chestnut and I tread the grapes.
The pulse of life runs high within my veins;
My hands and lips are red with berry stains.
My hands and lips are red with berry stains.
I bid the leaves from all their dances cease
And die a golden death. And I release
And die a golden death. And I release
The spell of summer, so that all remember
Winter and death at beck of me, September.
Winter and death at beck of me, September.
| Dirge for Aoine and other poems | |