Huub de Lange - The Pensive Autumn - текст песни (слова)

I love October better than divine
 May's quick upsurge of life;
 The pensive autumn is more nearly mine
 With its quiet surcease from strife.
 
 Softened by mist, the luminous eves unfold
 Their shining in the west,
 And, trembling from each twig, few, few, but gold
 Flutter the leaves to rest.
 
 Tiptoe with hope stood spring, but autumn lies
 In patience and in faith,
 Resigning her, mid sumptuous obsequies,
 To the gentle hand of death.
 
 To the sweet fruition of all earthly bloom
 Spring looks, but autumn, she
 To the mystic burgeoning beyond the tomb 
 Of our ultimate mystery.
 
 Float, opalescent canopies of cloud:
 Drop, leaves, to be her pall:
 Here lies our hope, full glorious in her shroud,
 And perishing, promiseth all.