Not by the Spring, Nor the sun-doubled scent Of lilac, heavy-headed; Not by the wing Of the secret thrush, nor new leaf bent And drooping like a tired hand at the wrist, Not by the thicket threaded With beads in a green mist, Are we persuaded earth is never spent; But when in the Autumn night, The thinning nut trees, hazel, oak and beech, Send down their shells locked tight, To the frosted mold, Or sharp precarious ledge— We trust this speech; The haunted mind receives From root and bough, A word so sealed to last against all cold. The sound of heavy dropping is a pledge, A sober vow Against the too light perishing of leaves. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NEVER TOO LATE: THE PALMER'S ODE by ROBERT GREENE IN TIME OF 'THE BREAKING OF NATIONS' by THOMAS HARDY LINCOLN by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY A FAREWELL TO LONDON IN THE YEAR 1715 by ALEXANDER POPE TO HIS WIFE by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS THE OLD MAID by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) AN EPISTLE THROWN INTO A RIVER IN A BALL OF WAX by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |