Old pails and tubs all over
The place; from the onset
The day is wet and awkward,
It drizzles at sunset,
And gulping down tears
The darkness gives a sigh,
At miles away one hears
Steam train’s lonesome cry,
An early dusk comes down,
A sudden blackness falls,
Small things are breaking down
As always in the fall.
At midday anguish pierces
And fills the autumn vale
By coming from a distance
A weeper’s howl and wail.
When from across the river
It’s wafted to my place,
I see the death and shiver,
I see it face to face.
I watch it from my cottage
Each fall, this one again,—
My slowly approaching
Inevitable end.
See: winter swept the barrier
And there, in plain daylight,
Through yellow leaves of terror
Is staring at my life.