WHEN a sighing begins In the violins Of the autumn-song, My heart is drowned In the slow sound Languorous and long. Pale as with pain, Breath fails me when The hour tolls deep. My thoughts recover The days that are over, And I weep. And I go Where the winds know, Broken and brief, To and fro, As the winds blow A dead leaf. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LAUGHTER (YOUTH SPEAKS TO HIS OWN OLD AGE) by CONRAD AIKEN AMOUR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DEAD LEAVES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CHILD OF MY HEART by EDWIN MARKHAM THE AWAKENING by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |