The russet field, the leafless tree, The wood so still and lone, The night which darkens o'er the lea Ere noon is scarcely gone, The dead leaves drifting here and there, Once young and fresh were they -- Aye, autumn 'tis which chills the air, And clips the wings of day. The dead leaves rustling under foot, As through the grove I pass -- It seems but yesterday they put Their green buds forth, alas. It seems but yesterday since spring Clothed field and wood with green, And everywhere the birds did sing, And budding life was seen. Then April waved his magic wand, And blossomed beauteous May. November now stalks o'er the land, And sombre is the day. Gone is the golden summer time, So beautiful to see, The sun within another clime Now wakes the sleeping lea. Soon fly the winds of winter forth, On pinions dark they go. Soon comes the tempest from the north, And falls the eddying snow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LEAVES OF THE TREE HIDE THE SUN by DAVID IGNATOW BENEDICTION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. PURKAPILE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 11 by EZRA POUND TWILIGHT SONG by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON DEAR ELIZABETH: (FOR ELIZABETH DIFIORE) by KAREN SWENSON |