|
|
 |
|
|
User Rating: |
|
--
/10
(0
votes)
|
|
|
|
|
|
It 's autumn in the country I remember.
How warm a wind blew here about the ways!
And shadows on the hillside lay to slumber
During the long sun-sweetened summer-days.
It's cold abroad the country I remember.
The swallows veering skimmed the golden grain
At midday with a wing aslant and limber;
And yellow cattle browsed upon the plain.
It 's empty down the country I remember.
I had a sister lovely in my sight:
Her hair was dark, her eyes were very sombre;
We sang together in the woods at night.
It 's lonely in the country I remember.
The babble of our children fills my ears,
And on our hearth I stare the perished ember
To flames that show all starry thro' my tears.
It 's dark about the country I remember.
There are the mountains where I lived. The path
Is slushed with cattle-tracks and fallen timber,
The stumps are twisted by the tempests' wrath.
But that I knew these places are my own,
I 'd ask how came such wretchedness to cumber
The earth, and I to people it alone.
It rains across the country I remember.
Trumbull Stickney
|
|
Read poems about / on: remember, sister, autumn, dark, lonely, summer, together, children, hair, people, wind, alone, sun, night, child
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
|
People who read
Trumbull Stickney
|
 |
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
