J. M. C. D.

The autumn sank in wet and heavy days 
That strung across the woods and into hearts 
Like ours, as mildew gathered in the ways, 
And all our arts 

Could never build anew the broken down 
Remains of what we had once floated on; 
The foundering raft, the two who start to drown 
When all that's gone -- 

The autumn stood in silent mud and gloom 
A witness to 

Our doom