What kind of feelings does the author express when the autumn is long and the dew is cold and the clothes are sad at dusk?

This poem comes from Wang Anshi, Meng Chongqing, the Imperial Examination Institute of the Song Dynasty on August 19th. The autumn is long when the president is empty, and the cold dew falls into the melancholy clothes list. The branches and leaves of the courtyard are gone, and the view is empty. I just feel that the long autumn is long, the solar terms have reached the cold dew, and the water vapor condenses in the evening, so I am worried about a person. Express the author's loneliness and nowhere to let go.