Charlotte Smith(1749–1806)

Written in October

The blasts of Autumn as they scatter round

The faded foliage of another year,

And muttering many a sad and solemn sound,

Drive the pale fragments o'er the stubble sere, dry; withered

Are well attuned to my dejected mood;

(Ah! better far than airs that breathe of Spring!)

While the high rooks, that hoarsely clamoring

Seek in black phalanx7 the half-leafless wood,

I rather hear, than that enraptured laysong

Harmonious, and of Love and Pleasure born,

Which from the golden furze,8 or flowering thorn

Awakes the Shepherd in the ides 0 of May;fifteenth

Nature delights me most when most she mourns,

For never more to me the Spring of Hope returns!