Autumn Song

The trees like fragrant giants,
Flowing sweeps of gold and violet,
Dance in the bright flight of wind
Duplicitous, as in the turning of air
Where leaves take up their whispers
And the blood of sunset gathers pale,
As the light winds through this hush,
Later, deeper grace.

In this eve, hear the birds;
Listen to the delicate creak of now
Twisting as the branches sway;
Mingling magic where shadows set
Their fate among souls yearning
For silent green again.

Time bends, drawing out its truth,
As I fold each page into the night,
With words as soft as whispered breath —
Returning into quietness,
For leaf, for dream — love must be
The bright hour heard above.

• Louis MacNeice