OF all the downfalls in the world, The flutter of an Autumn leaf Grows grievous by suggesting grief: Who thought, when Spring was first unfurled, Of this? The wide world lay empearled; Who thought of frost that nips the world? Sigh on, my ditty. There lurk a hundred subtle stings To prick us in our daily walk: An apple cankered on its stalk, A robin snared for all his wings, A voice that sang but never sings; Yea, sight or sound or silence stings. Kind Lord, show pity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBERT OF LINCOLN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE MODERN MAJOR-GENERAL, FR. THE PIRATES OF PENZANCE by WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT A THANKSGIVING TO GOD [FOR HIS HOUSE] by ROBERT HERRICK THE CHERRY TREES by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS THE OLD FLUTE by AUGUSTE ANGELLIER MINDEN HOUSE by WILLIAM BARNES FUNERAL by ETHEL SKIPTON BARRINGER OLD SARUM; LINES ON THE CONFERENCE OF THE ENGLISH CHURCH AT SALISBURY by ALICE COLBURN BEAL |