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...AND THE GREATEST OF THESE IS WAR by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE RIVALS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SENRYU: BLIND DATE by TIMOTHY LIU ON A VOLUME OF SCHOLASTIC PHILOSOPHY by GEORGE SANTAYANA ISN'T IT ROMANTIC by KAREN SWENSON THE DIORAMA PAINTER AT THE MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY by KAREN SWENSON CLOTHES by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER OWEN SEAMAN; ESTABLISHES ENTENE CORDIALE IN MANNER GUY WETMORE CARRYL by LOUIS UNTERMEYER |