WHEN a sighing begins In the violins Of the autumn-song, My heart is drowned In the slow sound Languorous and long. Pale as with pain, Breath fails me when The hour tolls deep. My thoughts recover The days that are over, And I weep. And I go Where the winds know, Broken and brief, To and fro, As the winds blow A dead leaf. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SETTING SAIL by EMILY DICKINSON PENMAEN POOL by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS TO THE EARL OF WARWICK ON THE DEATH OF MR. ADDISON by THOMAS TICKELL SONNET: EGYPT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 38. NO PERJURY IN LOVE by PHILIP AYRES BALLADE OF MYSELF AND MONSIEUR RABELAIS by LEONARD BACON (1887-1954) |