Ah! red-leafed time hath driven out the rose And crimson dew is fallen on the leaf Ere ever yet the cold white wheat be sown That hideth all earth's green and sere and red; The Moon-flower's fallen and the branch is bare, Holding no honey for the starry bees; The Maiden turns to her dark lord's demesne. Fairer than Enna's field when Ceres sows The stars of hyacinth and puts off grief, Fairer than petals on May morning blown Through apple-orchards where the sun hath shed His brighter petals...