As I stood at the door Sheltered out of the wind, Something flew in Which I hardly could find. In the dim gloomy doorway I searched till I found A dry withered leaf Lying down on the ground. With thin pointed claws And a dry dusty skin, -- Sure, a hall is no place For a leaf to be in! Oh where is your tree, And your summer and all, Poor dusty leaf, Whistled into a hall! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: SILENCE by THOMAS HOOD ON VISITING THE TOMB OF BURNS by JOHN KEATS RICHARD CORY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE VIOLET by ALEXANDER ANDERSON TO MR. WILLIAM BASSE UPON THE NOW PUBLISHING OF HIS POEMS by RALPH BATHURST PAN IN PANDEMONIUM by BERTON BRALEY CHORIAMBICS: 2 by RUPERT BROOKE |