Tall slender beech trees, whispering, touched with fire, Swaying at even beneath a desolate sky; Smouldering embers aflame where the clouds hurry by At the wind's desire. Dark sombre woodlands, rain drenched by the scattering shower, Spindle that quivers and drops its dim berries to earth, Mourning, perhaps as I mourn here alone for the dearth Of a happier hour. Can you still see them, who always delighted to roam Over the Hill where so often together we trod, When winds of wild Autumn strewed summer's dead leaves on the sod, Ere your steps turned home? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FALL OF HYPERION; A DREAM by JOHN KEATS THE MIST AND ALL by DIXIE WILLSON THE DOUBLE STANDARD by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS TO THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON ON HEARING HIM MISPRAISED by MATTHEW ARNOLD EDGE OF THE DAY by BURL BREDON TO THE APENNINES by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |