NO breath of wind stirs in the painted leaves, The meadows are as stirless as the sky, Like a Saint's halo golden vapours lie Above the restful valley's garnered sheaves. The journeying Sun, like one who fondly grieves, Above the hills seems loitering with a sigh, As loth to bid the fruitful earth good-bye, On these hushed hours of luminous autumn eves. There is a pathos in his softening glow, Which like a benediction seems to hover O'er the tranced earth, ere he must sink below And leave her widowed of her radiant Lover, A frost-bound sleeper in a shroud of snow While winter winds howl a wild dirge above her. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 8. WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY by JOHN MILTON THE MOTHER'S LAMENT by ST. CLAIR ADAMS FALSE FRIEND by GHALIB IBN RIBAH AL-HAJJAM LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 4. BALLYTULLAGH by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM ADMIRAL, HAIL! by ANNA EMILIA BAGSTAD SKYFARER by ANNA EMILIA BAGSTAD THE BABY-HOUSE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |