Season’s Change (A Sonnet)

The leaves are falling from their pendent height,
As though they knew their long-foreboded death
Had been declared by Autumn’s wasteful breath,
And so my soul is fraught with darksome fright;
How come she is so pale with her lost might,
Which once knew of a summer’s brewing breeze,
As it was wafting through the feathered trees,
But now has been closed round by a long night?
A bed of wilted blooms is o’er her spread,
And with her mortal charm she’s now bedight.
I never knew the depths of unprobed dread
That steal upon the heart in such a plight,
When all of heaven shuts its sounding gates,
And leaves the frosting heart to wither as it waits...