If there be any grief For those lost eremites Who live where no man roams, It is on Autumn nights At falling of the leaf, It is when pale October, Relentless tree-disrober, Conceals the smokeless homes. Autumn is not so chill Nor leaves so light in air, Nor any wind as dim Blowing from any where, Nor fallen snow as still As the boy who loved to wander Singing till the forest yonder Shouted in response to him. My love has come to this -- And what of this to me? His eyes are eaten now, My eyes he cannot see; Those gentle hands of his Are taken by a stronger, There is a hand no longer To lay upon my brow. Autumn has killed the rose; O mock him not with flowers For they are troublesome: Take him to pass the hours Where the grey nettle grows. Scantly his couch adorning Let him who praised the morning Lie here, till morning come. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI by JOHN KEATS BORDER BALLAD [OR MARCH, OR SONG], FR. THE MONASTERY by WALTER SCOTT ENGLAND IN 1819 by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE LAMENTATION OF THE OLD PENSIONER (2) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE SUPLIANTS: IO. CHORUS by AESCHYLUS LILIES: 22. THE VEIL OF BLISS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE BALLOON MAN by JEAN M. BATCHELOR |