Not So Far as the Forest, I
That chill in the air Which the wise know well, and even have learned to bear. This joy, I know, Will soon be under snow.
The sun sets in a cloud And is not seen. Beauty, that spoke aloud, Addresses now only the remembering ear. The heart begins here To feed on what has been.
Night falls fast. Today is in the past.
Brown from the dark hill hither to my door Three flakes, then four Arrive, then many more.














