I dreamt of autumn in the window's twilight,
And you, a tipsy jesters' throng amidst. ' And like a falcon, having stooped to slaughter,
My heart returned to settle on your wrist.
But time went on, grew old and deaf.
Like thawing Soft ice old silk decayed on easy chairs.
A bloated sunset from the garden painted The glass with bloody red September tears.
But time grew old and deaf.
And you, the loud one,
Quite suddenly were still.
This broke a spell.
The dreaming ceased at once, as though in answer To an abruptly silenced bell.
And I awakened.
Dismal as the autumn The dawn was dark.
A stronger wind arose To chase the racing birchtrees on the skyline,
As from a running cart the streams of straws.
