When hollyhocks crowd close against a wall Their colors drowned in soft September rain, And poplars, swaying in the sudden gust Are heard to whisper of the coming fall When of their leaves not any shall remain, I think they sense a certain upward thrust Of hungrier leaves, still aching to be born When these are blown beyond recurrent morn. Time garners all! And these like mist shall be, Not unregarded quite -- for they have served Soft mouths to feed, revitalize the tree. Here nature lends to every form a glass Wherein is seen the vital thing preserved; Frail servants all -- but beautiful en masse. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FETES GALANTES: PANYOMIME by PAUL VERLAINE THE BLUE BIRD by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 5. ALLAH-AL-KUDDUS by EDWIN ARNOLD TO THE GALLIC EAGLE by BERNARD BARTON SONNET: 3 by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES PASTURES by MARGARET PERKINS BRIGGS AN ELEGY ON THE UNTIMELY DEATH OF THOMAS AYLEWORTH, SLAIN AT CROYDON by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |