Return

Smoke from smouldering leaves tumbles Across the road, shadowing white clapboards Where Webster dipped his sophomore quill Before us—before store windows framed in chrome The Inn, the haberdasher, and juke boxes, singing.

Old Crosby and the Row display a whiter gleam Bleached by summer, shuttered under elms. The wind abducts a raft of leaves. Some clatter on the window sills and scrape Into unfurnished rooms, melancholy fall.

Melancholy Fall, some gone, an empty room, Faint echoes on a stair. The new ones pause To hear bold bells address a setting sun. The mirror windows flame in Webster Hall, And Eleazar in sepulchral robes drones Convocation.