the fall of the leaf
the lamist hangs from the brow of the hill,
concealing the course of the dark-winding rill;
how languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear!
as autumn to winter resigns the pale year.
the forests are leafless, the meadows are brown,
and all the gay foppery of summer is flown:
apart let me wander, apart let me muse,
how quick time is flying, how keen fate pursues!