AUTUMN is weary, halt, and old; Ah, but she owns the song of joy! Her colours fade, her woods are cold. Her singing-bird's a boy, a boy. In lovely Spring the birds were bent On nests, on use, on love, forsooth! Grown-up were they. This boy's content, For his is liberty, his is youth. The musical stripling sings for play Taking no thought, and virgin-glad. For duty sang those mates in May. This singing-bird's a lad, a lad. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE LATE S.T. COLERIDGE by WASHINGTON ALLSTON EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 20. EVER PRESENT by PHILIP AYRES TO A SINGING BIRD by PHILIP AYRES CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: APOLOGY TO CLEO by WILLIAM BASSE ODE TO MISS HOYLAND: MISS HOYLAND IS COY by THOMAS CHATTERTON TALE: 2. THE PARTING HOUR by GEORGE CRABBE |