The fall falls and the leaf is dry.
All your reflected beauty, Cynthia,
Is beautiful, but will die.
Look! The mist drowses.
The breeze blows your belief back into your eyes.
This is love—if you let me lie.
All the mists that sit upon the hill
Are drowsy, slumbering, and still.
The evening holds you, Cynthia.
The day is bright, but has no will.
The night should be peaceful
If you take the precarious pill.
The fall falls and the leaf is dry.
Love was always convincing the eye
While lips were content to lisp and lie.
Love was always convincing the face
Love is water, and has no place.
You have decided
The world was right when it derided.
You have desires none can fulfill.
Look at the mist on the misty hill.
Look at the sunset going down in the grasses.
The fall falls.
What is beautiful is beautiful, but eventually passes.
