It`s a fall! A drop!

Sheer from the top

Joy to the sight it is.

A drape! A cape!

Sleek on her neck`s nape,

A helmet of light it is.

 

It`s a spilled sluice

Of gold juice

At the vintage-squeeze it is.

(The slight stir

Of one hair

Caught in the breeze it is.)

 

It`s the deep gleam

Of that oak beam

At the head of the stairs it is.

The silk glow

Of the chestnut`s show

In the fall – and it`s Clare`s it is!