The Autumn wind wails thin, Like a sobbing violin, Long and low. How it thrills my heart with pain, This monotonous refrain, Sad and slow! Passion-pale I pant, "Alas!" For the chiming hours that pass To their sleep, Till the visions throng my head Of the good glad days long dead— And I weep. But the wind so wild and fleet Overbears my willing feet, And I go As the withered leaves that spin— When the winter gusts begin— To and fro. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STORIES ARE MADE OF MISTAKES by JAMES GALVIN RHYTHM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE DAY AND THE WORK by EDWIN MARKHAM TO A FRIEND IN THE MAKING by MARIANNE MOORE PORTRAIT OF A MOTOR CAR by CARL SANDBURG |