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.
Lord Alfred Douglas's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Autumn Days by Lord Alfred Douglas )
- The Futility Of Illusions, Bazi alis Subrata Ray
- Tour of Autumn, Cathy Hodgson
- The ache, DEEPAK KUMAR PATTANAYAK
- Ein schmaler Streifen kahler Klippen, Wolfgang Steinmann
- We've Got to Tear These Fences Down Yeah!, David Clinch
- It's My Home, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- In the Sun's Falsetto, Kewayne Wadley
- A Poem, David Clinch
- Caught In the Crossfire, David Clinch
- Lonnie Donegan Stood, David Clinch
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