THE Dawn creeps laggard now into the wood; For he she loved, her God with golden hair, Summer, has slipped off to the south somewhere, And all his birds have followed, like a flood. In vain she asks the trees, "Why did he fly?" In tattered cloaks close-folded they are dumb: For Autumn, that brown gipsy child, has come, And filled their hearts with piping wild and high. He has sung Summer gone and Winter near: And has consoled their grief with promises Of coats well-lined with gold, so, though they freeze, They will be safe from Winter, never fear. This mocking song they have misunderstood: But Dawn, in her grey lonely heart, knows all. She marks how, from the stiff boughs, dead leaves fall Each morning, as she comes into the wood. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CANTICLE OF THE RACE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE LIVING STARS by GEORGE SANTAYANA TO DEAN-BOURN, A RUDE RIVER IN DEVON, BY WHICH ... HE LIVED by ROBERT HERRICK ARCADIA: THE BARGAIN by PHILIP SIDNEY ON SENDING MY SON AS A PRESENT TO DR. SWIFT by MARY BARBER SONNET TO A FRIEND, ON HIS SECOND MARRIAGE by BERNARD BARTON MERCHANT ADVENTURERS (WITH ACKNOWLEDGMENTS TO SIMEON STRUNSKY) by BERTON BRALEY |