I was a goddess ere the marble found me. Wind, wind, delay not! Waft my spirit where the laurel crowned me! Will the wind stay not? Then tarry, tarry, listen, little swallow! An old glory feeds me -- I lay upon the bosom of Apollo! Not a bird heeds me. For here the days are alien. O, to waken Mine, mine, with calling! But on my shoulders bare, like hopes forsaken, The dead leaves are falling. The sky is gray and full of unshed weeping As dim down the garden I wait and watch the early autumn sweeping. The stalks fade and harden. The souls of all the flowers afar have rallied. The trees, gaunt, appalling, Attest the gloom, and on my shoulders pallid The dead leaves are falling. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 17. TO SIR HENRY VANE THE YOUNGER by JOHN MILTON THE BROKEN WATER WHEEL by GHALIB IBN RIBAH AL-HAJJAM THE UNSCARRED FIGHTER REMEMBERS FRANCE by KENNETH SLADE ALLING THE EMPTY BOTTLE by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN COME UNTO ME by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD EASTER by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN |