I push in my house-door wide. The fallen, sear leaves outside, Aswirl in the autumn wind, Like stealthy souls that have sinned, All shrunken and hectic, dry, Outstrip me and hasten by O'er vestibule, hall and stair, They rattle and battle there; As if to forsake the dead, The swift coming cold, the dread, To flee from the Winter's storm And fawn on the live, the warm, In search of the fire's glow, The Summer dead long ago. But I -- I must close the door, Across the bright, leaf-strewn floor. The leaves underneath my feet Must wander again the street, From hearth and from heart swept away; Or, I perish, too, as they. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 6 by EZRA POUND THE BELLS OF YOUTH by WILLIAM SHARP FOR THOSE AT SEA; HYMN by WILLIAM WHITING THE GIRLS' LOT by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS ON THE DEATH OF HER BODY by JAMES KEIR BAXTER THE OLD TRAMP by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER SONG by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: FIFTH ECLOGUE; TO HIS FRIEND CHRISTOPHER BROOKE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |