The lonely season in lonely lands, when fled Are half the birds, and mists lie low, and the sun Is rarely seen, nor strayeth far from his bed; The short days pass unwelcomed one by one. Out by the ricks the mantled engine stands Crestfallen, deserted,—for now all hands Are told to the plough,—and ere it is dawn appear The teams following and crossing far and near, As hour by hour they broaden the brown bands Of the striped fields; and behind them firk and prance The heavy rooks, and daws grey-pated dance: As awhile, surmounting a crest, in sharp outline (A miniature of toil, a gem's design,) They are pictured, horses and men, or now near by Above the lane they shout lifting the share, By the trim hedgerow bloomed with purple air; Where, under the thorns, dead leaves in huddle lie Packed by the gales of Autumn, and in and out The small wrens glide With a happy note of cheer, And yellow amorets flutter above and about, Gay, familiar in fear. And now, if the night shall be cold, across the sky Linnets and twites, in small flocks helter-skelter, All the afternoon to the gardens fly, From thistle-pastures hurrying to gain the shelter Of American rhododendron or cherry-laurel: And here and there, near chilly setting of sun, In an isolated tree a congregation. Of starlings chatter and chide, Thickset as summer leaves, in garrulous quarrel: Suddenly they hush as one,— The tree top springs,— And off, with a whirr of wings, They fly by the score To the holly-thicket, and there with myriads more Dispute for the roosts; and from the unseen nation A babel of tongues, like running water unceasing, Makes live the wood, the flocking cries increasing, Wrangling discordantly, incessantly, Where falls the night on them self-occupied; The long dark night, that lengthens slow, Deepening with Winter to starve grass and tree, And soon to bury in snow The Earth, that, sleeping 'neath her frozen stole, Shall dream a dream crept from the sunless pole Of how her end shall be. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRELUDE; FOR GEOFFREY GORER by EDITH SITWELL KILLED IN ACTION by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES HIS PRAYER TO BEN JONSON by ROBERT HERRICK SNOWFLAKES by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE AUTHOR'S EPITAPH, MADE BY HIMSELF by WALTER RALEIGH MARY'S GIRLHOOD (FOR A PICTURE): 1 by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |