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...CONTRA MORTEM: THE NOTHING II by HAYDEN CARRUTH I COULD TAKE by HAYDEN CARRUTH LOCKED OUT; AS TOLD TO A CHILD by ROBERT FROST AFTER WRITING A POEM by DAVID IGNATOW OFFERING by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON QUESTION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LINES ON CARMEN SYLVA by EMMA LAZARUS DOMESDAY BOOK: CHARLES WARREN, THE SHERIFF by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |