Leaves

Robert William Service

The leaves are falling one and one,
         Each like a life to me,
As over-soonly in the sun
         They spiral goldenly:
So airily and warily
         They falter free.

The leaves are falling two and two,
         Beneath a baleful sky;
So silently the sward they strew,
         Reluctantly they die . . .
Rich crimson leaves,—and no one grieves
         There doom but I.

The leaves are falling three and three
         Beneath the mothlike moon;
They flutter downward silverly
         In muted rigadoon;
And russet dry remote they lie
         From feathered tune.

The leaves are lying numberless,
         Disconsolately dead;
Where lucent was their sylvan dress
         And lightsome was their tread,
They rot below the bitter snow,
         Uncomforted.

A leaf’s a life, and one by one
         They drift each darkling day;
Rare friends who lusted in the sun
         Are frailing fast away . . .
How sadly soon will mourn the moon
         My dark decay!

Index + Blog :

Poetry Archive Index | Blog : Poem of the Day