tip tap the bird sits upon
the window ledge
and see how the oak leaves
flutter down
upon the yellowed grass
oh has it come to this
though the newspapers weep
i now see that the season
has come
autumn at long last
summer falls streaming on
my uplifted face
for even now my heart races
in the grand consummation
of even the dance of ages
for it has now come to past
that the invitation upon the table
has not been for nothing
no no says she look at the signature
and the wax still dripping
and see out the window the carriage
it is here it is here
far sooner than i could have imagined
far later than i long have wished
these groaning bones have no complaint
no longer
the grass so green under my feet offers a lullaby
and i see the vines leap upwards the strong wrought seaside tower
tick tock sea spray falls