WHEN the extreme of autumn whirls the oak-leaf from the forest, Till from the withered ling, The hardiest birds take wing; -- Courage, O Heart! there surges through this winter thou abhorrest, The Vision of the spring! When the oncoming years dispel the magic of our morning Till all the Past is shed With petals falling red: Perish'd illusions, hope defeated, passion turned to scorning, Eternal friendship dead; Ah, in how many an hour of twilight, -- Soft! they wake and flutter, And hover round us yet, The ghosts of our regret: Evermore altered faces, names we never hear or utter And nevermore forget! Rock, O tormented forest, all thy branches torn and hoary! In vain the tempest stings; The skies I watch are Spring's, Lovelier still and haloed with the soft poetic glory Of all remembered things! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO A FRIEND by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 3. AMARYLLIS by THOMAS CAMPION A BALLAD OF SARSFIELD; OR, THE BURSTING OF THE GUNS by AUBREY THOMAS DE VERE LOREINE: A HORSE by ARTHUR DAVISON FICKE CUPID AND CAMPASPE, FR. ALEXANDER AND CAMPASPE by JOHN LYLY REUBEN JAMES by JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE |