Chapter 86 - Villanelle 9 (1/2)

Villanelle

By Edmund Gosse

WOULDST thou not be content to die

When low-hung fruit is hardly clinging,

And golden Autumn passes by?

Beneath this delicate rose-gray sky,

While sunset bells are faintly ringing,

Wouldst thou not be content to die?

For wintry webs of mist on high

Out of the muffled earth are springing,

And golden Autumn passes by.