My garden feels the touch of fall And, like a damsel, winter dreading, She spins herself a damasked shawl With red and gold and purple threading. The cosmos breaks in starry bloom Upon the robe of her designing; Chrysanthemums from her rich loom Are warmly her deep bosom twining. October beats against her heart And blusters he will be her master! Defiantly she bends her art To weave perfection in an aster! Yet well the queenly maid must know For all the splendour she may pattern, November's fierce, relentless blow Will show her to the world a slattern! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON MY JOYFUL DEPARTURE FROM THE CITY OF COLOGNE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE MOTHER by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE SONG OF THE ANGELS AT THE NATIVITY by NAHUM TATE MY ANGUISH by INNOKENTI FYODOROVICH ANNENSKY |