O sweetest month, that pourest from full hands The golden bounty of rich harvest lands! O saddest month, that bearest with thy breath The crimson leaves to drifts of glowing death! In fields and lives, the fall of withered leaves Darkens the glorious season of ripe sheaves, For Life's fruition comes with loss and pain, And Death alone can bring the richest gain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TRANSFORMATIONS by THOMAS HARDY THE DARKNESS OF EGYPT by MARIA ABDY |