Fades Indian Summer's brief, bright interlude. Long, penciled lines of wild geese southward fly. Stripped of their golden splendors, stark fields lie Despoiled, and desolate. Bleak thoughts intrude In this dark, dismal season so imbued With grim reminders that all things must die, For snow has not yet come to typify The promise of a life, cleansed and renewed. Hoarse winds, with wearied voices, sob and moan An endless requiem. The gray skies weep For summer and for beauty that has flown. Across the great, drab plains the plowshares creep. They leave broad mourning bands and hide away Grim relics that are withered, bleached and gray. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HEMLOCK by EMILY DICKINSON THE PLOUGHMAN by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE TRAVAIL OF PASSION by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS TO THE RAILROAD MEN by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS IMITATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE: PROGNE'S DREAM by JOHN ARMSTRONG THE NOSEGAY by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD NOVEMBER by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 9 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |