Late autumn, early winter . . . Down the mothless Evening I fear the flick of ghostly wings Through that faint falling silver where the deathless Tide of the dead moon swings. I fear the sleepers in the desolate garden -- Purple and gold and blue -- How shall they cease Their thoughts of flame? Would they not cast the burden Of brittle winter peace, The little cold, the doom so light to sever -- Burst in a blaze of color through the shell Of winter witchery till sleep gives over The shattered sullen spell? Late autumn, early winter . . . I fear this glimmer Of creeping frost, this delicate half-death. Beneath it all the savage fires of summer Live without breath. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DREAM LIFE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LOST ILLUSIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MATE (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PENDULUM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PLEDGE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO J. D. H. (KILLED AT SURREY C. H., OCTOBER, 1866) by SIDNEY LANIER |