AFTER the crisp of fall, There is beautiful summer weather: In the air is a wondrous Call, And tied things strain at their tether, And creeping and flying things Walk swift or essay their wings. Then, a cold Word comes in the night, Bringing a message of blight: And the creeping things and the flying (Ah, the myriad lives effaced, And the pity of trust misplaced!) At morn, are dead or dying. Man, in his knowledge, hath understood: But the humbler folk of the earth and air In their vast and vocal brotherhood (They only petition for living-room) Do fondly dream that the spring has come, Till their very blood beats frolicsome: But they misinterpret a Semblance fair, And a Broken Promise is their doom. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MIDSUMMER'S NOON IN THE AUSTRALIAN FOREST by CHARLES HARPUR EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: BOMBER IN LONDON by RUDYARD KIPLING FIELD AMBULANCE IN RETREAT; VIA DOLOROSA, VIA SACRA by MAY SINCLAIR NORTH-WEST PASSAGE: 1. GOOD NIGHT by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON MY PRAYER by HENRY DAVID THOREAU |