Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE LEAF, by ANTOINE VINCENT ARNAULT


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THE LEAF, by            
First Line: Poor leaf from off thy spray
Last Line: And glory's leaf of bay.


POOR leaf from off thy spray,
Withered and torn away,
Where dost thou go? I cannot say.
The storm has shattered the oak,
Which was my only stay,
With its inconstant stroke.
The West or the howling North
From that hour drive me forth
From the forest to the plain,
From the mountain to the mead.
I go where the winds may lead,
I go where the storms constrain,
Without complaint, without dismay;
I go where all else goes--
Where goes joy's leaf of Rose,
And glory's leaf of Bay.





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