A lonesome lingerer through the autumn day,
    Uplifting still a spotless brow of snow,
Though fair-haired summer now has passed away,
    Though blue-eyed spring has faded long ago.

O daughter of the old age of the year,
    The last and loveliest of your royal race,
Though skies are scowling, you are free from fear,
    Lighting the darkness with your moon-white face.

And so you blossom, spite of chilling frost,
    When other blooms are dust in dreary vaults,
Like one sweet hope, when other hopes are lost,
    Like one true friend, when other friends are false.

You glimmer through the melancholy haze,
    When leaves are brown, and not a bird will sing,
Still keeping through the chill autumnal days
    A heart of summer and a soul of spring.

In virgin sweetness, faithful, tender, true,
    Fearless you face gruff winter's Cossack horde.
And dying, lift a chalice gemmed with dem
    To pour a pure libation to the Lord!