I sought among the drifting leaves,
The golden leaves that once were green,
To see if Love were hiding there
And peeping out between.
For thro’ the silver showers of May
And thro’ the summer’s heavy heat,
In vain I sought his golden head
And light, fast-flying feet.
Perhaps when all the world is bare
And cruel winter holds the land,
The Love that finds no place to hide
Will run and catch my hand.
I shall not care to have him then,
I shall be bitter and a-cold —
It grows too late for frolicking
When all the world is old.
Then little hiding Love, come forth,
Come forth before the autumn goes,
And let us seek thro’ ruined paths
The garden’s last red rose.
By Bettina Guber
Native American contemporary artist
A Group of Auriculas, 1803. Frederick Lewis (British, 1779–1856) and James I. Hopwood (British, c. 1752–1819), after Peter Charles Henderson (British, active 1799, died 1829). Color aquatint, stipple, and etching with watercolor added by hand. Gift of the Print Club of Cleveland 1949.415.