Fallen leaves skitter fleet And elf-like down the street. Winds have blown the moon awry, It hangs a half-thing in the sky; A sorry chimney-pot thing, Sooty silver in a ring. Time, the sweep, has brushed away Half of it.... Alack-a-day! Nothing's safe from the doom Of Time's broom. Nothing -- neither love nor life, Not friend, not wife! Time, ruthless chimney-sweep, Smudges all we would keep. After him we must go And ever clean the house of woe! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BRER RABBIT, YOU'S DE CUTES' OF 'EM ALL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON A SEA-SHORE GRAVE by SIDNEY LANIER THE CORNUCOPIA OF RED AND GREEN COMFITS by AMY LOWELL A LITTLE GIRL'S PRAYER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |