All
At
Once,
The
Leaves
Are
Beaten
Gold
And
Sere
As
Each
Day
Subtracts
From
The
Year.
I was
Born
Under
Sagittarius,
On
The
Next
To
Last
Day
Of
The
Next
To
Last
Month,
Arrogant
And
Proud,
And
Cast
Into
The
Tumult
Of
The
Crowd,
To
Take
My
Soldiers
Place
In
The
Warlike
Human
Race.
The
Leaves
Hang
Briefly
Golden
Until
Gilt
Fades
To
Brown,
And
They
Fall
Silent
To
The
Ground.