POOR leaf from off thy spray, Withered and torn away, Where dost thou go? I cannot say. The storm has shattered the oak, Which was my only stay, With its inconstant stroke. The West or the howling North From that hour drive me forth From the forest to the plain, From the mountain to the mead. I go where the winds may lead, I go where the storms constrain, Without complaint, without dismay; I go where all else goes-- Where goes joy's leaf of Rose, And glory's leaf of Bay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN A LECTURE-ROOM by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH EASTER 1916 by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE WELFORD WEDDING by ELIZABETH FRANCES AMHERST PRAYER by ANTON ALEXANDER VON AUERSPERG CRICKET ON THE HEARTH by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER WRITTEN IN ZIMMERMAN'S SOLITUDE by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS CALIFORNIA RAIN by MARGERY AILYN BISHOP |