Autumn Groves

When grasses have been scythed and nettles blanched
A naked drive is welcomed in this wood;
Although the oaks and birches have advanced
A few feet further, as such tall trees should
After long summers, with that splendid sun
That shone down on them, as they grew in strength;
But, now their leaves are fallen, they've begun
To rot and wither and to mulch at length;
 
The last plants creep in shadow as the wind
Blows up a storm of nettles, leaves and grass;
But, standing on the footplate, she won't mind;
She'll focus on exposure and, alas,
How, despite the cool weather it's not chill,
She's been dragged through the cobwebs - they should crown
Her gaudy headgear for it is sir's will
To let her tawdry turmoil take her down;
 
This way she'll realise how she was made
To serve and to be used through every season;
She's bared amidst the foliage; we'll degrade
Her well in his employment; and it's pleasing
To use her, like the wench she is, in woods
That have been carpeted with those crisp leaves;
And, like the trees, she's deprived of her goods
Save those her tongue explores and, yes, relieves;
 
When grasses have been scythed and nettles blanched
Sir says it's rather wonderful to drive
Her to new peaks of decadence advanced
Enough (as she is) to avoid the fuss
That others stumbling on this scene might make;
And there's the rub of being so revealed:
The warmth of her blush really makes her ache
Amidst the windswept autumn groves and fields...