LATE autumnal mists all-dripping Spread o'er hill and valley fair; Storms the trees of leaves are stripping, And they ghostly look, and bare. But one single sad tree only Silent and unstripp'd is seen; Moist with tears of woe, and lonely, Shaketh he his head still green. Ah! this waste my heart displayeth, And the tree, still full of life, Summer-green, thy form portrayeth, Much beloved and beauteous wife! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON DIGITAL EXTREMITIES by FRANK GELETT BURGESS THE PARTY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE ANGELUS; HEARD AT THE MISSION DOLORES IN SAN FRANCISCO, 1868 by FRANCIS BRET HARTE MEADOW-SAFFRON by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE INTRODUCTORY VERSES TO MARIA HACK by BERNARD BARTON THE MISTLETOE BOUGH by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY CALIFORNIA RAIN by MARGERY AILYN BISHOP |