A Farewell
I In the green house, creeping vines, In the pale cold autumn glows, What buxom summer lingers through? I may not with-hold my heart from love.
II The leaves have flung their colours down, Gathered from flowers that went down with them. I do not want any marvels sweet as these; I wish not to recall at midnight, shone a dream until dawn.
III I bid farewell, yet I have this to keep…
- Dante Gabriel Rossetti