Chansons d'Automne
(From Poimes Saturniens.)
WHEN a sighing begins In the violins Of the autumn-song,
My heart is drowned In the slow sound Languorous and long. Pale as with pain, Breath fails me when The hour tolls deep. My thoughts recover The days that are over, And I weep. And I go
Whr»re the winds know,
Broken and brief,
To and fro,
As the winds blow
A dead leaf."
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