Classic Poem

Now light dies from the pleasance
With rich look of colour
About the lawn, and winter
Whispers of leafless trees . . .

Of orange sunsets soft dying
And chill in the air at morning,
When friends will delight also
To speak of Artois' friends,

Warm straw after freezing ditches.
And soon will come long dark
Starry when the poet goes
Content with his masters out to stars.