I will take me out to the autumn woods, And tramp through the rustling brown Of leaves from the ancient beeches, that sift And drift and filter down. I will slip from out my rebellious self, as One does from a shoddy gown. Naked and clean and alone with myself, I'll dispel the hurt which burns Like a vicious javelin, poison-tipt, that Rankles and twists and turns . . . I will walk by the path through the coppery woods, Easing hate -- which my spirit spurns. I will lie on the bank of the tranquil brook, On a carpet of shimmering leaves, Which the sun and frost have turned to gold, Till the passion which tosses and seethes, Has ebbed away and left me free, Midst the blessed peace of trees. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RETROSPECT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO SAMUEL COLERIDGE UPON HEARING HIS 'SOME I FEEL LIKE A MOTHERLESS..' by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON WORDS INTO WORDS WON'T GO by CLARENCE MAJOR DOMESDAY BOOK: THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS NEBUCHADNEZZAR: OR EATING GRASS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS RECESSIONAL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO DISRAELI ON CONSERVATISM by MARIANNE MOORE THE LOVER MOURNS FOR THE LOSS OF LOVE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |