HIGH on the hills the miser, Autumn, sits, Hoarding his wondrous wealth of treasured gold; Yet in the night I hear his grieving voice In every wind that sweeps across the wold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PINES AND THE SEA by CHRISTOPHER PEARSE CRANCH THE SPHINX by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE SONG OF HIAWATHA: HIAWATHA AND MUDJEKEEWIS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW PSALM 19. [THE HEAVENS ABOVE AND THE LAW WITHIN] by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE CAGED LION by ANNE MILLAY BREMER TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. I SAW A VISION by EDWARD CARPENTER SONNET: OF THE GRAVE OF SELVAGGIA, ON MONTE DELLA SAMBUCA by CINO DA PISTOIA |