A Glimmer of My Mother

The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere; Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; -----------------------------------------------------------------------In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the forests cast the leaf, And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief: Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of ours, So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.