The autumn equinox has reached my land,
And on the sundial weary night and day
Resolve their quarrel for the nonce, and lay
Twelve hours of sun and dark on either hand.
The yellow smoke of fern is blowing away
Over the hilltops with the vagrant band
Of southward flying ducks.   But understand
Though all these follow summer, I shall stay.

Go thou with them, I know thy hopes are set
On warmer gardens than this fading place,
But someone must remain, lest earth forget
Her calendar, and sleep in the embrace
Of endless winter; lest the snow efface
The river’s memory of the violet.