Each sapless leaf that lingers here Where bare woods mourn Shall soon upon Wind's silvery bier Be gravewards borne. The bees have left our honey-bowers, The birds are fled; And 'neath the blight of frost our flowers Have fallen—dead! Yon meadow now, where grass grew green, No grazing yields: No bells are heard, no flocks are seen In far, fenced fields. Where children played till all the ground Was wet with dew, Autumn, to-day, with threatening sound Snow trumpets blew. Fear not November's challenge bold— We've books and friends; And hearths that never can grow cold: These make amends! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN HOSPITAL: 10. STAFF NURSE: NEW STYLE by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY SONNET: 14. ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF CATHERINE THOMASON by JOHN MILTON TO MR. WILLIAM BASSE UPON THE NOW PUBLISHING OF HIS POEMS by RALPH BATHURST TO A MISSIONARY, WHO ATTENDED ... MEETING OF BIBLE SOCIETY by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |