Summer is gone with all its roses. Its sun and perfumes and sweet flowers, Its warm air and refreshing showers: And even Autumn closes. Yea, Autumn's chilly self is going, And Winter comes which is yet colder; Each day the hoar-frost waxes bolder, And the last buds cease blowing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEATH OF GRANT by AMBROSE BIERCE SIGISMONDA AND GUISCARDO by GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO DOWNFALL OF POLAND [FALL OF WARSAW, 1794] by THOMAS CAMPBELL STAR-TALK by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES THE UNPARDONABLE SIN by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY TASTING THE EARTH by JAMES OPPENHEIM IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 5 by ALFRED TENNYSON |