THE leaves are falling fast, and Winter drear With muffled feet steals on the silent fold; With marble touch his hoary hand doth sear The very heart-strings of the poor and old; The little songsters of the leafy wold Are quiet now, no more to charm the sky With rapture of a love that cannot die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PURSUIT OF THE WORD by ROBERT FROST FRAGMENTS WRITTEN WHILE TRAVELING...A MIDWESTERN HEAT WAVE by JAMES GALVIN IVY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON QUESTION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPRING WIND IN LONDON by KATHERINE MANSFIELD I PAY MY DEBT FOR LAFAYETTE AND ROCHAMBEAU' by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |