AUTUMN clouds are flying, flying O'er the waste of blue; Summer flowers are dying, dying, Late so lovely new. Labouring wains are slowly rolling Home with winter grain; Holy bells are slowly tolling Over buried men. Goldener light sets noon a sleeping Like an afternoon; Colder airs come stealing, creeping From the misty moon; And the leaves, of old age dying, Earthy hues put on; Out on every lone wind sighing That their day is gone. Autumn's sun is sinking, sinking Down to winter low; And our hearts are thinking, thinking Of the sleet and snow; For our sun is slowly sliding Down the hill of might; And no moon is softly gliding Up the slope of night. See the bare fields' pillaged prizes Heaped in golden glooms! See, the earth's outworn sunrises Dream in cloudy tombs! Darkling flowers but wait the blowing Of a quickening wind; And the man, through Death's door going, Leaves old Death behind. Mourn not, then, clear tones that alter; Let the gold turn gray; Feet, though feeble, still may falter Toward the better day! Brother, let not weak faith linger O'er a withered thing; Mark how Autumn's prophet finger Burns to hues of Spring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SOULS OF THE SLAIN by THOMAS HARDY ONLY WAITING by FRANCES LAUGHTON MACE THE CAVALIER'S SONG by WILLIAM MOTHERWELL CRYING, 'THALASSUS!' by JOSEPH AUSLANDER MAGUS MUIR by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE HEATH-COCK by JOANNA BAILLIE WHITE MOMENTS by KATHARINE LEE BATES |