Breaking through from behind the clouds
Wrapped in a grey shades of evening, The half-
dressed forest is sad ...
Of the summer leaves, perhaps a hundredth,
Shining with autumn gilding,
Still rustling on the branches.
I look with affectionate sympathy,
When, breaking through from behind the clouds,
Suddenly speckled through the trees,
With their decayed leaves emaciated, A
lightning-like ray will spray.
How fading cute!
What a charm in it for us,
When that bloomed and lived
so , Now so weak and sickly,
For the last time it will smile! ...
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