The Autumn wind wails thin, Like a sobbing violin, Long and low. How it thrills my heart with pain, This monotonous refrain, Sad and slow! Passion-pale I pant, "Alas!" For the chiming hours that pass To their sleep, Till the visions throng my head Of the good glad days long dead And I weep. But the wind so wild and fleet Overbears my willing feet, And I go As the withered leaves that spin When the winter gusts begin To and fro. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 7 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE TRANSLATION by MARK VAN DOREN TO THE STATES. TO IDENTIFY THE 16TH, 17TH, OR 18TH PRESIDENTIAD by WALT WHITMAN KNAPWEED by ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON SONNET: POOR LISA by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON RETURN TO TOMHANICK by ANN ELIZA BLEECKER |