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...JOGGIN' ERLONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SONNET: 45 by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY TASTING THE EARTH by JAMES OPPENHEIM THE BATTLE-CRY OF FREEDOM by GEORGE FREDERICK ROOT THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 72. THE CHOICE (2) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI VAN ELSEN by FREDERICK GEORGE SCOTT EPISTLES ON THE CHARACTER AND CONDITION OF WOMEN: 3 by LUCY AIKEN |