Tall slender beech trees, whispering, touched with fire, Swaying at even beneath a desolate sky; Smouldering embers aflame where the clouds hurry by At the wind's desire. Dark sombre woodlands, rain drenched by the scattering shower, Spindle that quivers and drops its dim berries to earth, Mourning, perhaps as I mourn here alone for the dearth Of a happier hour. Can you still see them, who always delighted to roam Over the Hill where so often together we trod, When winds of wild Autumn strewed summer's dead leaves on the sod, Ere your steps turned home? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE AIM WAS SONG by ROBERT FROST A SMUGGLER'S SONG by RUDYARD KIPLING SONNET: 16. TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL, MAY 1652 by JOHN MILTON LOOKING FORWARD by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON A CHARACTER OF HIS FRIEND, W.B. ESQ by PHILIP AYRES RECESS by MILDRED TELFORD BARNWELL TWO SONNETS: 1 by DAVID P. BERENBERG AN ANNOTATION by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 17 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |