THE ruddy sunset lies Banked along the west; In flocks with sweep and rise The birds are going to rest. The air clings and cools, And the reeds look cold, Standing above the pools, Like rods of beaten gold. The flaunting golden-rod Has lost her worldly mood, She's given herself to God, And taken a nun's hood. The wild and wanton horde, That kept the summer revel, Have taken the serge and cord, And given the slip to the Devil. The winter's loose somewhere, Gathering snow for a fight; From the feel of the air I think it will freeze to-night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVER'S MESSAGE; SONG by JOHN DRYDEN CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMASSE EVE by ROBERT HERRICK THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL, 1861 by LUCY LARCOM THE LARK ASCENDING by GEORGE MEREDITH IN LIGHTER VEIN by ELIZABETH KEMPER ADAMS ISAIAH: PERFECT PEACE by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE SECTION GANG: AFTERNOON by NORMAN BOLKER SONNETS OF SEVEN CITIES: PITTSBURGH by BERTON BRALEY AIRS SUNG AT BROUGHAM CASTLE: THE KINGS GOOD NIGHT by THOMAS CAMPION |