The leaves are whirling down the lane,
The wind is sweeping over plain,
And tossing in the dusky air
The summer’s remnants everywhere.
The elm-tree shudders, bare and thin,
And shakes the dusky dust therein;
The meadows bend beneath the blast,
The flowers that linger fade at last.
Yet in this riot, wild and free,
I see the change of earth’s decree;
The wind and leaves, though rough they be,
Still teach the soul humility.