(1873 - 1958 / Kent / England)

AUTUMN (November)

There is a wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.

Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.

Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.

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Comments (5)

Baarakallah feeq
Fall is so very melancholy yet in nature the season is a season of rest and restoration..... would that loss of human. life were that way
Wow love this poem
What a sad and beautiful poem about the death of a child. Very moving.
Delicious poem! very warm! ! !