Summer is gone with all its roses,
Its sun and perfumes and sweet flowers,
Its warm air and refreshing showers:
And even Autumn closes.
Yea, Autumn's chilly self is going,
And winter comes which is yet colder;
Each day the hoar-frost waxes bolder,
And the last buds cease blowing.
More verses by Christina Georgina Rossetti
- The Dog Lies In His Kennel
- One And One Are Two
- Songs In A Cornfield
- Why Did Baby Die?
- Life And Death