THE ten hours' light is abating, And a late bird wings across, Where the pines, like waltzers waiting, Give their black heads a toss. Beech leaves, that yellow the noon-time, Float past like specks in the eye; I set every tree in my June time, And now they obscure the sky. And the children who ramble through here Conceive that there never has been A time when no tall trees grew here, That none will in time be seen. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE STARLING; SONNET by AMY LOWELL THE AEOLIAN HARP by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE AN OLD WOMAN OF THE ROADS by PADRAIC COLUM NIGHTMARE, FR. IOLANTHE by WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT THE VANISHING BOAT by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE |