Summerhouse Lament I lay and watched The leaves turn brown Then fall and flutter to the ground. The old grey squirrel At his toil Hides chestnuts in the autumn soil. Fat pigeons flying Through the wood Are calling from a distant roof. The last red apples Turn to wine And on them wasps and bees Still dine. And birds,who still sing Summer's song Know,soon the season will be gone. (at The Potters House Penketh)














