Lord Alfred Douglas

(1870 - 1945 / England)

Autumn Days


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.

Submitted: Monday, April 12, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Autumn Days by Lord Alfred Douglas )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Trending Poets

Trending Poems

  1. Alone, Edgar Allan Poe
  2. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  3. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  4. Christmas Trees, Robert Frost
  5. The Three Kings, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
  6. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  7. Christmas Carol, Sara Teasdale
  8. Talking Turkeys!, Benjamin Zephaniah
  9. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
  10. The Boy Who Laughed At Santa Claus, Ogden Nash

Poem of the Day

poet Li Po

Amongst the flowers I
am alone with my pot of wine
drinking by myself; then lifting
my cup I asked the moon
to drink with me, its reflection
and mine in the wine cup, just
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

poet Marvin Brato Sr

[Hata Bildir]