THE autumn day steals, pallid as a ghost, Along these fields and man-forsaken ways; And o'er the hedgerows bramble-knotted maze The whitening locks of Old Man's Beard are tost. Here, shrunk by centuries of fire and frost, A crab tree stands where -- lingering gossip says -- In ocean-moated England's golden days, Great treasure, in a frolic, once was lost. Here -- fresh from fumes of some Falstaffian bout, When famous champions, fired by many a bet, Had drained huge bumpers while the stars would set -- Beneath its reeling branches by the way, Till twice twelve hours of April bloom were out -- Locked in oblivion -- Shakespeare lost a day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DESPAIR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ODE TO WISDOM by ELIZABETH CARTER FAREWELL TO LOVE; SONNET by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE FREDERICK DOUGLASS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR WHERE THE PICNIC WAS by THOMAS HARDY PEEWEE by ALFRED FRANCIS KREYMBORG THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 13 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |