HOW bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled! Hues of all flow'rs, that in their ashes lie, Trophied in that fair light whereon they fed, -- Tulip, and hyacinth, and sweet rose red, -- Like exhalations from the leafy mould, Look here how honour glorifies the dead, And warms their scutcheons with a glance of gold! -- Such is the memory of poets old, Who on Parnassus-hill have bloom'd elate; Now they are laid under their marbles cold, And turn'd to clay, whereof they were create; But god Apollo hath them all enroll'd, And blazon'd on the very clouds of Fate! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: SAILORS' [OR MARINERS'] SONG by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES CHORIAMBICS: 1 by RUPERT BROOKE ON THE RIGHT HONOURABLE CHARLES, LORD HERBERT by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) HIS MOTHER'S FACE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING A COMMENT ON COMMENT IN GENERAL CONFESSION OF SINS, IN CHURCH LITURGY by JOHN BYROM AFTER THE HURRICANE by HENRY DUNCAN CHISHOLM |