Thomas Bailey Aldrich

We weep when we are born,
Not when we die!

We weep when we are born,
Not when we die!

Or light or dark, or short or tall,
She sets a springe to snare them all:
All's read more

Or light or dark, or short or tall,
She sets a springe to snare them all:
All's one to her--above her fan
She'd make sweet eyes at Caliban.

Come watch with me the shaft of fire that glows
In yonder West: the fair, frail palaces,
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Come watch with me the shaft of fire that glows
In yonder West: the fair, frail palaces,
The fading Alps and archipelagoes,
And great cloud-continents of sunset-seas.

October turned by maple's leaves to gold;
The most are gone now; here and there one lingers;
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October turned by maple's leaves to gold;
The most are gone now; here and there one lingers;
Soon these will slip from the twig's weak hold,
Like coins between a dying miser's fingers.

Only the sea intoning,
Only the wainscot-mouse,
Only the wild wind moaning
Over the read more

Only the sea intoning,
Only the wainscot-mouse,
Only the wild wind moaning
Over the lonely house.