Walter Savage Landor (Уолтер Сэвидж Лэндор)

Autumn

MILD is the parting year, and sweet
   The odour of the falling spray;
Life passes on more rudely fleet,
   And balmless is its closing day.

I wait its close, I court its gloom,
   But mourn that never must there fall
Or on my breast or on my tomb
   The tear that would have soothed it all.

1. A Pastoral
2. Idle Words
3. Twenty Years Hence My Eyes May Grow
4. The Gates of Fame and of the Grave
5. With Rosy Hand a Little Girl Prest Down

Alice Bartlett (Элис Бартлетт) Autumn ("The blaze of autumn scorches now the hill")

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