Dead leaves from off the tree Make whirlpools on the ground; Like dogs that chase their tails, Those leaves go round and round; Like birds unfledged and young, The old bare branches cry; Branches that shake and bend To feel the winds go by. No other sound is heard, Save from those boughs so bare -- Hark! who sings that one song? 'Tis Robin sings so rare. How sweet! like those sad tunes In homes where grief's not known; Or that a blind girl sings When she is left alone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WORDLY WISE (5) by MOTHER GOOSE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 82 by ALFRED TENNYSON MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS by LUCY AIKEN FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: DIRGE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES POETRY: WHAT IS IT? by LEVI BISHOP THE GATES OF PARADISE; FOR CHILDREN by WILLIAM BLAKE |