Or glue me, season, mind, my eyes delight and chanting. How pleasant to me is your beauty's farewell grace. I love the sound-trustness of nature softly passing, In velvet rayment and in gold the forest dress. Your treat-up sound so light with winds fresh breath but glancing, And waves of misty fog beshroud the skies like lace. The sun's rays so rare now, and the first frost upon us, And seaming far off now, dread-winter's grey-haired manus.