THE rain-drops plash, and the dead leaves fall, On spire and cornice and mould; The swallows gather, and twitter and call, "We must follow the summer, come one, come all, For the winter is now so cold." Just listen awhile to the wordy war, As to whither the way shall tend, Says one, "I know the skies are fair And myriad insects float in air Where the ruins of Athens stand. "And every year when the brown leaves fall, I build my nest on the corniced wall, Says another, "My cosey home I fit |