September 1922
By Alfred Edward Housman
Well to the weeds no more,
The laurels are all cut,
The bowers are bare of bay
That once the Muses wore;
The year draws in the day
And soon will evening shut:
The laurels all are cut,
Well to the woods no more.
Oh well no more, no more
To the leafy woods away,
To the high wild woods of laurel
And the bowers of bay no more.