Take my tidings! Stags contend; Snows descend-- Summer's end! A chill wind raging; The sun low keeping; Swift to set O'er seas high sweeping. Dull red the fern; Shapes are shadows; Wild geese mourn O'er misty meadows. Keen cold limes Each weaker wing. Icy times-- Such I sing! Take my tidings! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON BRODSKY'S COLLECTED by MICHAEL S. HARPER EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: THE COWARD by RUDYARD KIPLING THERE IS NO LOVING AFTER DEATH by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS THE IVORY GATE; AN UNFINISHED DRAFT by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES EVENSONG by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |