The mellow year is hasting to its close; The little birds have almost sung their last, Their small notes twitter in the dreary blast -- That shrill-piped harbinger of early snows: The patient beauty of the scentless rose, Oft with the morn's hoar crystal quaintly glassed, Hangs, a pale mourner for the summer past, And makes a little summer where it grows: In the chill sunbeam of the faint brief day The dusky waters shudder as they shine, The russet leaves obstruct the straggling way Of oozy brooks, which no deep banks define, And the gaunt woods, in ragged, scant array, Wrap their old limbs with somber ivy twine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THESMOPHORIAZUSAE: WOMEN'S CHORUS by ARISTOPHANES THE DYING WORDS OF STONEWALL JACKSON by SIDNEY LANIER THE SUICIDE by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY SINCE THOU ART GONE by HENRY VAUGHAN MAN FRAIL AND GOD ETERNAL by ISAAC WATTS GOOD-BYE MY FANCY! by WALT WHITMAN DRINKING SONG (3) by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE LILIES: 4. BLOSSOMS ABOVE A TOMB by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |