Helen Louise Birch

From “Autumn Leaves”

LEAVES whirl about my feet;

Leaves, leaves dance over my head—

Brown leaves.

And their madness and love of death blow through my heart.

(Oh, the perfume of these drifting golden leaves!)

What wine can stain the soul with redder glory

Than this wild, sudden thirst for sudden death?

They rise like clouds of incense

From swift-swinging golden censers—

Clouds and clouds!

And the western sky is a glow of light

As yellow and white as the face of a Christian saint.

Autumn, autumn!

I will not live!

I’ll go now, now, with all my memories and my joys.

I will not live

To have them blown

Like ashes from an altar by capricious winds.