Lines To A Withered Leaf Seen On A Poet's Table
Poet's hand has placed thee there,
Autumn's brown and withered scroll!
Though to outward eye not fair,
Thou hast beauty for the soul,
Though no human pen has traced
On that leaf its learned lore,
Love divine the page has graced,—
What can words discover more?
Not alone dim Autumn's blast
Echoes from yon tablet sear,—
Distant music of the Past
Steals upon the poet's ear.
Voices sweet of summer hours,
Spring's soft whispers murmur by;
Feathered songs from leafy bowers
Draw his listening soul on high.
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Comments about this poem (Lines To A Withered Leaf Seen On A Poet's Table by Jones Very )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- The day my angel died, whole world cried, The lonely wanderer
- the day I get to call you mine, The lonely wanderer
- No goal, hasmukh amathalal
- gud bye my love, The lonely wanderer
- गोरबो इसिँनिफ्राइ- 77, Ronjoy Brahma
- Ordinary Goddess, GRANT FRASER
- u and I are never alike, The lonely wanderer
- Truth and non-violence, gajanan mishra
- If I Die Young, John Billy Tumapon Yucot
- Not even birds, hasmukh amathalal