Fades Indian Summer's brief, bright interlude. Long, penciled lines of wild geese southward fly. Stripped of their golden splendors, stark fields lie Despoiled, and desolate. Bleak thoughts intrude In this dark, dismal season so imbued With grim reminders that all things must die, For snow has not yet come to typify The promise of a life, cleansed and renewed. Hoarse winds, with wearied voices, sob and moan An endless requiem. The gray skies weep For summer and for beauty that has flown. Across the great, drab plains the plowshares creep. They leave broad mourning bands and hide away Grim relics that are withered, bleached and gray. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UPON DRINKING IN A BOWL by ANACREON VICTORY BELLS by GRACE HAZARD CONKLING PROGRESSIVE HEALTH by CARL DENNIS THE SPHINX by RALPH WALDO EMERSON EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: 'EQUALITY OF SACRIFICE' by RUDYARD KIPLING PETER STUYVESANT'S NEW YEAR'S CALL, 1 JAN. 1661 by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN CHANCES OF REMEMBRANCE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |