Autumn, par T. E. Hulme

Autumn

A touch of cold in the Autumn night—

I walked abroad,

And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge

Like a red-faced farmer.

I did not stop to speak, but nodded,

And round about were the wistful stars

With white faces like town children.

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Above the quiet dock in mid night, Tangled in the tall mast’s corded… Hangs the moon. What seemed so fa… Is but a child’s balloon, forgotte…

Over the flat slopes of St Eloi A wide wall of sand bags. Night, In the silence desultory men Pottering over small fires, cleani…

Once, in finesse of fiddles found… In the flash of gold heels on the… Now see I That warmth’s the very stuff of po… Oh, God, make small