MUCH have I spoken of the faded leaf; Long have I listened to the wailing wind, And watched it ploughing through the heavy clouds, For autumn charms my melancholy mind. When autumn comes, the poets sing a dirge: The year must perish; all the flowers are dead; The sheaves are gathered; and the mottled quail Runs in the stubble, but the lark has fled! Still, autumn ushers in the Christmas cheer, The holly-berries and the ivy-tree: They weave a chaplet for the Old Year's bier, These waiting mourners do not sing for me! I find sweet peace in depths of autumn woods, Where grow the ragged ferns and roughened moss; The naked, silent trees have taught me this, -- The loss of beauty is not always loss! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HILL ABOVE THE MINE by MALCOLM COWLEY RETROSPECT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON RHYTHM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ON VIOLET'S WAFERS, SENT ME WHEN I WAS ILL by SIDNEY LANIER THE POET; SONNET by AMY LOWELL I PAY MY DEBT FOR LAFAYETTE AND ROCHAMBEAU' by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |