Autumn left them   long ago. If

I should see   their lonely skulls, with

Their gazes empty   and voices haunting do

They call me,   strained with longing. Who

Can sense their regret   and effect in his mind

Where they slept   and died and wept? I find

The rats are gone.   They left me no reason.

The last one starved   to death last season.

When at last   the black snow clears,

I meet long rows   of comrades dear

Overtaken   by a simple breeze

As whirling winds   now bid me leave.

Still I will stay   a while yet,

That the Earth   honors not these dead.

So I leave   in cold Earth’s stead

Autumn leaves   for a deathbed.