WHEN a sighing begins In the violins Of the autumn-song, My heart is drowned In the slow sound Languorous and long. Pale as with pain, Breath fails me when The hour tolls deep. My thoughts recover The days that are over, And I weep. And I go Where the winds know, Broken and brief, To and fro, As the winds blow A dead leaf. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES ON THE MERMAID TAVERN by JOHN KEATS AFTER THE NIGHT by NOUREDDIN ADDIS THE PEACE: TO HEAVEN ON A BEETLE by ARISTOPHANES PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 66. AL-I'HLAS by EDWIN ARNOLD STELLA AND FLAVIA by MARY BARBER THE VIVANDIERE ('70) by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |