Альфред Остин (Alfred Austin)

To The Autumn Wind

O envious Autumn wind, to blow
From covert vale and woodland crest
The mellow leaves, just as they glow
Brightest and loveliest;
To strip the maples black and bare,
To rob the beeches' russet gold,
And make what was of late so fair
But rustling drift and dripping mould.

Yet if, as you have done with them,
With me you will but timely do,
I will no more your rage condemn,
But, rather, make my peace with you.
Let me not linger on, to know
The mournfulness of feelings lost,
But waft me, while as yet they glow,
Wise Autumn wind, from winter frost! 

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