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Autumn Days
(1870 - 1945 / England)

Autumn Days

Poem By Lord Alfred Douglas

I have been through the woods to-day
And the leaves were falling,
Summer had crept away,
And the birds were not calling.

And the bracken was like yellow gold
That comes too late,
When the heart is sad and old,
And death at the gate.

Ah, mournful Autumn ! Sad,
Slow death that comes at last,
I am mad for a yesterday, mad !
I am sick for a year that is past!

Though the sun be like blood in the sky
He is cold as the lips of hate,
And he fires the sere leaves as they lie
On their bed of earth, too late.

They are dead, and the bare trees weep
Not loud as a mortal weeping,
But as sorrow that sighs in sleep,
And as grief that is still in sleeping.

User Rating: 3,4 / 5 ( 23 votes ) 9

Other poems of DOUGLAS (29)

Comments (9)

It's beutyful and fearfulness shakes the flesh...
The lamenting of trees in particular and nature in general over the slow death has been projected in a touching and superb manner. Thanks for sharing it here.
a sad seasonal poem that's not all gold? .well penned.
'Though the sun be like blood in the sky He is cold as the lips of hate, And he fires the sere leaves as they lie On their bed of earth, too late.' is a beautiful stanza. Composed beautifully with use of strong imagery, it is a beautiful poem on Autumn. Liked it.
Summer had crept away and leaves were falling down. Birds were not calling. Slow death signed with sadness. In autumn sun came like blood in sky. The bare trees wept. Grief went for sleeping while autumn came. A great imagery is drawn that enhances mind.....10


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