When hollyhocks crowd close against a wall Their colors drowned in soft September rain, And poplars, swaying in the sudden gust Are heard to whisper of the coming fall When of their leaves not any shall remain, I think they sense a certain upward thrust Of hungrier leaves, still aching to be born When these are blown beyond recurrent morn. Time garners all! And these like mist shall be, Not unregarded quite -- for they have served Soft mouths to feed, revitalize the tree. Here nature lends to every form a glass Wherein is seen the vital thing preserved; Frail servants all -- but beautiful en masse. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEETING AND PASSING by ROBERT FROST THE BLACK RIDERS: 9 by STEPHEN CRANE ROSALIND'S MADRIGAL, FR. ROSALIND [ROSALYNDE] by THOMAS LODGE THE LOTOS-EATERS by ALFRED TENNYSON THE ATLANTIDES by HENRY DAVID THOREAU |