Classic Poem

LEAVES .

The year is an old hag.
Look, how she has rouged her cheeks
And carmined her lips
And donned a flaming gown
To deceive us.
But see, behind the scarlet
The yellow of decay,
And under the crimson fabric
The bony gauntness of decrepitude.
SUNSET .

The West—
A field of wind-swept wheat
That the great scythe of darkness
Is reaping.
SNOWFALL .

I did not understand
Till in my hand I crushed this snow-flake,
How Life, too, breaks and cripples
The starry patterns of Eternity.