Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy
Autumn - Poem by Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy
Autumn 'tis! Our garden stands
Flowerless and bare,
Dizzy whirling yellow leaves
Fill the wind swept air.
Yet the distant mountain ash
In the vale below,
With our favorite berries red
Now begins to glow.
While with rapture and with pain
Throbbing in my breast,
Pressing hot thy hands in mine,
Fondly gazing in thine eyes,
Through my tears I see--
That I can never tell thee
How dear thou art to me!
Comments about Autumn by Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You