New York Nocturnes and Other Poems

by Charles G.D. Roberts


The Falling Leaves


Lightly He blows, and at His breath they fall,
   The perishing kindreds of the leaves; they drift,
Spent flames of scarlet, gold aerial,
   Across the hollow year, noiseless and swift.
Lightly He blows, and countless as the falling
   Of snow by night upon a solemn sea,
The ages circle down beyond recalling,
   To strew the hollows of Eternity.
He sees them drifting through the spaces dim,
   And leaves and ages are as one to Him.