In silence,

  the fading summer passes,

  the plovers fly,

  the river gleams golden

  where amber half-lights wane,

  a dreaming kiss of the golden season

  as the flowers wither.

  Walled with far indigoes

  of the slumbering year,

  The season on a windless altar burns;

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  Splendid as rubies

  glittering on a sea of sand.

  My heart has taken

  from the torched leaf

  A swiftly soaring glory,

  and the grief

  Of withering hope is colored

  like the dying year,

  with scattered petals

  and dandelions drifting

  into the west.