Here you will find the Poem Burning Leaves, November of poet Christopher Morley
THESE are the folios of April, All the library of spring, Missals gilt and rubricated With the frost's illumining. Ruthless, we destroy these treasures, Set the torch with hand profane- Gone, like Alexandrian vellums, Like the books of burnt Louvain! Yet these classics are immortal: O collectors, have no fear, For the publisher will issue New editions every year.
