How selflessly and skillfully the sun
who sang bright hours to rivers, glades, and towns
takes his appointed leave as, one by one,
the choristers of evening don their solemn silver gowns.

How suddenly the trees to brown are turned.
Fair summer heaves, demures, no longer cares.
Once more, her promises are raked and burned--
the quick and cunning frost again has caught her unawares.

How simply is the gathering of friends
dissolved, as each must hurry home alone.
With one last glass, a lingering laugh, it ends.
The well-worn chairs are left to feign a friendship of their own.