OCTOBER turned my maple's leaves to gold; The most are gone now; here and there one lingers: Soon these will slip from out the twigs' weak hold, Like coins between a dying miser's fingers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRISONED IN WINDSOR, HE RECOUNTETH HIS PLEASURE THERE PASSED by HENRY HOWARD RECOGNITION by SUSIE MONTGOMERY BEST PSALM 3; WHEN HE FLED FROM ABSALOM; AUGUST 9, 1653 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE TO S-----D (2) by WILLIAM BLAKE THE MEANING by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE F.B.C.; CHANCELLORSVILLE, MAY 3, 1863 by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER |