Autumn
When autumn winds are on the hill And darkly rides the wasting moon,
I creep within your arms, and still Am safe in the golden heart of June.
Mary Webb
When autumn winds are on the hill And darkly rides the wasting moon,
I creep within your arms, and still Am safe in the golden heart of June.
A cold autumn night is closing in: wind moves over the hill, and the moon is waning, so the world feels dark and unsettled. In response, the speaker does not face the season alone. She turns to a loved one, creeping into their arms, and in that embrace the whole emotional weather changes.
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