My heart is a garden tired with autumn,
Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark.
In the hazy sunshine, the garden remembers April,
The drench of rains and a snowdrop quick and clear as a spark;
Daffodils blowing in the cold winds of morning,
And golden tulips, goblets holding the rain -
The garden will be hushed with snow, forgotten soon, forgotten -
After the stillness, will spring come again?
From 'The Garden' by Sara Teasdale