WHEN the extreme of autumn whirls the oak-leaf from the forest, Till from the withered ling, The hardiest birds take wing; -- Courage, O Heart! there surges through this winter thou abhorrest, The Vision of the spring! When the oncoming years dispel the magic of our morning Till all the Past is shed With petals falling red: Perish'd illusions, hope defeated, passion turned to scorning, Eternal friendship dead; Ah, in how many an hour of twilight, -- Soft! they wake and flutter, And hover round us yet, The ghosts of our regret: Evermore altered faces, names we never hear or utter And nevermore forget! Rock, O tormented forest, all thy branches torn and hoary! In vain the tempest stings; The skies I watch are Spring's, Lovelier still and haloed with the soft poetic glory Of all remembered things! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GARDEN WIRELESS by CARL SANDBURG THIS LIME-TREE BOWER MY PRISON by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE STORMING OF STONY POINT [JULY 16, 1779] by ARTHUR GUITERMAN THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER by FRANCIS SCOTT KEY PETER QUINCE AT THE CLAVIER by WALLACE STEVENS ON BURNING A DULL POEM; WRITTEN IN 1729 by JONATHAN SWIFT SONG OF SLAVES IN THE DESERT by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER POLYHYMNIA: SONNET TO LADY FALKLAND UPON HER GOING TO INTO IRELAND by WILLIAM BASSE |