Up. Up. And onward into Autumn fly
In shrill pursuit and raucous hunting cry
A pair of hawks with summer-weary wings.
Summer has bred new pirates in her care
And fresher pinions flutter down her air
To join the lists of Love which now are wide.
We fled from Summer, now ourselves pursued,
Till somewhere sometime in an autumn wood
We stooped with fluttered wings for very love.
This is our final mating. Now the keen
Talon on feather tears the quick between
And so we fall together with the leaves.