Red leaves, whirling in a dance of death, Brown leaves, waltzing to a chilly grave, Green leaves, trying vainly to be bold, Gold leaves, shivering in the cold, Leaves of purple, leaves of crimson wave Wildly in the west wind's icy breath. Tall trees, weary, bow their trembling heads In mute homage to the tyrant gale. West wind, piping fiendishly in glee A mournful melody in minor key, To pallid ghosts of summer blossoms frail, Leads them to their chill and wintry beds. Sweet songs, soft relics of the summer past, In eery cadence seem to haunt the vale. Like phantom butterflies, in wan array, The leaves dance to the sound. Across the way, The proud corn stands in golden mail, Alone defiant of the chilly blast. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE TREES by HAYDEN CARRUTH CONTRA MORTEM: THE VILLAGE by HAYDEN CARRUTH JAWEH AND ALLAH BATTLE by ALLEN GINSBERG HOPE (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PEACE (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |