Red Leaves

My heart is quiet and glad

That knew no peace before,

And the feverish loves it had

Shall trouble me no more.

No dreams of sorrow or mirth

Shall rouse them from their sleep,

For my heart is as still as the earth,

And forgotten graves are deep.

Over the place where they rest

Red leaves drift, one by one,

And the quiet slope of my breast

Is an autumn field in the sun.