Tawny grasses climb the fields; The red-brown sumac blossom wields Its lance-like shaft in watchful ranks; Bayberries lift their snowy fruit; Trees bare their beauty, standing mute; Dead goldenrod, full, feathery soft, Sways on sere stalks; and from aloft A crow cries lonesomely. The banks Along the brook are white with snow. To hear the brook one has to go Close to its side. A murmur low Is reassuring: through festoons Of decorative ice, it croons That spring will come, ere many moons. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE ROCK THAT WILL BE A CORNERSTONE OF THE HOUSE by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE WIZARD IN WORDS by MARIANNE MOORE OH YOU ARE COMING by SARA TEASDALE IN THE SUBWAY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER ECHOES: 9 by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY THE DONG WITH A LUMINOUS NOSE by EDWARD LEAR HELEN AND THETIS by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE SESTET SENT TO A FRIEND WITH A VOLUME OF TENNYSON by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |