An Autumnal Simile

The leaves that in the lonely walks were spread,
Starting from off the ground beneath the tread,
Coursed o'er the garden-plain;
Thus, sometimes, 'mid the soul's deep sorrowings,
Our soul a moment mounts on wounded wings,
Then, swiftly, falls again.

by Victor Marie Hugo

Comments (1)

An excellent write. Enjoyed reading and visualizing it's spiritual connect.