"Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf 

How the heart feels a languid grief 

Laid on it for a covering, 

And how sleep seems a goodly thing 

In Autumn at the fall of the leaf? 

And how the swift beat of the brain 

Falters because it is in vain, 

In Autumn at the fall of the leaf 

Knowest thou not? and how the chief 

Of joys seems—not to suffer pain? 

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf 

How the soul feels like a dried sheaf 

Bound up at length for harvesting, 

And how death seems a comely thing 

In Autumn at the fall of the leaf? ''

-- "Autumn Fall,'' by Dante Gabriel Rossetti