Golden Light

John Atkinson Grimshaw
"Golden Light"

 

 

Giuramento (Oath)

 

If autumn's graces never came again,

Its lace no longer glimmered in the lane,

Its leaves no longer wept with cooling rain—

     Still, I would love.

 

Should autumn's music sing its last refrain

And summer ever glisten on the plain,

The memory of autumn will remain—

     So, too, my love.

 

© Leticia Austria 2009
First published in Decanto