HOW bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled! Hues of all flow'rs, that in their ashes lie, Trophied in that fair light whereon they fed, -- Tulip, and hyacinth, and sweet rose red, -- Like exhalations from the leafy mould, Look here how honour glorifies the dead, And warms their scutcheons with a glance of gold! -- Such is the memory of poets old, Who on Parnassus-hill have bloom'd elate; Now they are laid under their marbles cold, And turn'd to clay, whereof they were create; But god Apollo hath them all enroll'd, And blazon'd on the very clouds of Fate! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A RED, RED ROSE by ROBERT BURNS THE PITY OF IT by THOMAS HARDY ODE FOR THE AMERICAN DEAD IN ASIA by THOMAS MCGRATH THE BEAUTIFUL LAND OF NOD by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX DESERT WIFE by NELLIE COOLEY ALDER WHAT IS THE SPIRIT? by KATHARINE LEE BATES IRELAND'S VENGEANCE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 26 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |