Whirling, swirling, swept from branches, Dry leaves flutter to the ground; Seeds, too, borne on waves of ether, Another springtime to be found. In the dawn the farmer rises, Gath'ring in the year's increase; After watching, waiting throughout summer, Nature's yield -- the crop's release. Ominous clouds hang in the offing, Waiting the tumult of winter's storm; Yet they proclaim the year is dying -- Dying -- or is it only change of form? Sad the days for him who blindly Holds the present to his breast; He can only vision ruin, In place of change that's for the best. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TRAGEDY OF VALENTINIAN: THE POWER OF LOVE by JOHN FLETCHER TO A CYCLAMEN by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR AUTUMN: A DIRGE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE FEILIRE OF ADAMNAN by ADAMNAN SONNET: AM I TO LOSE YOU? by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON SOLILOQUY by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON THE BUSTS OF GOETHE AND SCHILLER IN WALHALLA by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER |