The Spring spreads one green lap of flowers
  Which Autumn buries at the fall,
No chilling showers of Autumn hours
  Can stay them or recall;
Winds sing a dirge, while earth lays out of sight
Her garment of delight.

The cloven East brings forth the sun,
  The cloven West doth bury him
What time his gorgeous race is run
  And all the world grows dim;
A funeral moon is lit in heaven's hollow,
And pale the star-lights follow.