THE leaves are falling; so am I; The few late flowers have moisture in the eye; So have I too. Scarcely on any bough is heard Joyous, or even unjoyous, bird The whole wood through. Winter may come: he brings but nigher His circle (yearly narrowing) to the fire Where old friends meet. Let him; now heaven is overcast, And spring and summer both are past, And all things sweet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LIVING DEAD by RALPH CHAPLIN TROILUS AND CRESSIDA: SONG by JOHN DRYDEN WOODNOTES: 2 by RALPH WALDO EMERSON YEARS OF THE MODERN by WALT WHITMAN THE RUBY THROAT by RUTH BUTLER BROWN SUB DIVO by SAMUEL VALENTINE COLE THE BLACK RIDERS: 44 by STEPHEN CRANE ON A CERTAIN SPINSTER WHO LINGERED IN CHURCH by ANNA BUNSTON DE BARY |