A Rendering Of Thomas Hood's Poem 'autumn' Poem by Ravi Kopra

End of autumn
dry leaves
old man with tons of gold
weeping, sighing, dying

His end near, no happiness
night with no evening
day with no morning
cold winter says:

river water very cold
red sun no more.
I very old
my life no more

Sad sad my mind.

-Ravi Kopra

*****

The Autumn is old,
The sere leaves are flying; —
He hath gather'd up gold,
And now he is dying; —
Old Age, begin sighing!
The vintage is ripe,
The harvest is heaping; —
But some that have sow'd
Have no riches for reaping; —
Poor wretch, fall a-weeping!
The year's in the wane,
There is nothing adorning,
The night has no eve,
And the day has no morning; —
Cold winter gives warning.
The rivers run chill,
The red sun is sinking,
And I am grown old,
And life is fast shrinking;
Here's enow for sad thinking!

-Thomas Hood