THE leaves have not yet gone; then why do ye come, O white flakes falling from a dusky cloud? But yesterday my garden-plot was proud With uncut sheaves of ripe chrysanthemum. Some trees the winds have stripped; but look on some, 'Neath double load of snow and foliage bowed, Unnatural winter fashioning a shroud For Autumn's burial ere its pulse be numb. Yet Nature plays not an inhuman part: In her, our own, vicissitudes we trace. Do we not cling to our accustomed place, Though journeying Death have beckoned us to start? And faded smiles oft linger in the face, While grief's first flakes fall silent on the heart! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GARDEN OF ADONIS by EMMA LAZARUS A FORGOTTEN TUNE by PAUL VERLAINE PICTURE-SHOW by SIEGFRIED SASSOON A TRIBUTE TO WILL ROGERS AND WILEY POST by ROSETTA THORSON BEACHLER OLD JOHN by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN OLNEY HYMNS: 20. OLD-TESTAMENT GOSPEL by WILLIAM COWPER TO REV. WALTER BAGOT; EXCUSE FOR DELAY IN WRITING TO HIM by WILLIAM COWPER |