Lady of Autumn
Lady of Autumn, in your cold repose
Dreaming among the brown-leaved empty vines
With sable robe drawn close, the night wind blows,
And Winter with his icy hand prefines
Your lease on this bright garden of wild youth.
Soon you will nod by the dry sticks of age.
Lady of Autumn, do I speak the truth?—
Put on red shoes, make Love a pilgrimage!
~~
C.F. MacIntyre (1890-1967)
from Poetry, May 1920
[Poem is in the public domain in the United States]
C.F MacIntyre biography
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