About the chilly, ragged lawns they lie In small decaying heaps. And pausing here, I can but mark them sadly, crushed, forlorn, Mute emblems of the slowly dying year. Can they be those I saw so lately swing Green-robed and merry on the maple trees, And later, clad in flaming, golden gowns, Joy-riding on the sweet October breeze? Ride high and free, such little time ago And now they lie so low! they lie so low! And yet why pity them? Full well they lived Their God-appointed plan, died joyously, And left a golden memory! Pray who Could ask a fairer fate for them, or me? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 17 by JAMES JOYCE THE SEVEN ARTS by ROBERT FROST SPRINGTIME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE DAY OF THE DEAD SOLDIERS; MARY 30, 1869 by EMMA LAZARUS LENTEN GREETING; TO A LADY by GEORGE SANTAYANA |