Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

200
Chapter Four
XL

But our Northern summer is a caricature of Southern winters 5 it will glance by and vanish: this is known, 4 though to admit it we don't wish. The sky already breathed of autumn, the sun already shone more seldom, the day was growing shorter, 8 the woods' mysterious canopy with a sad murmur bared itself, mist settled on the fields, the caravan of clamorous geese is was tending southward; there drew near a rather tedious period; November stood already at the door.