Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE PASSING YEAR, by MATHILDE BLIND



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THE PASSING YEAR, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: No breath of wind stirs in the painted leaves
Last Line: While winter winds howl a wild dirge above her.
Alternate Author Name(s): Lake, Claude
Subject(s): Time


NO breath of wind stirs in the painted leaves,
The meadows are as stirless as the sky,
Like a Saint's halo golden vapours lie
Above the restful valley's garnered sheaves.
The journeying Sun, like one who fondly grieves,
Above the hills seems loitering with a sigh,
As loth to bid the fruitful earth good-bye,
On these hushed hours of luminous autumn eves.

There is a pathos in his softening glow,
Which like a benediction seems to hover
O'er the tranced earth, ere he must sink below
And leave her widowed of her radiant Lover,
A frost-bound sleeper in a shroud of snow
While winter winds howl a wild dirge above her.







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