Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy

(5 September 1817 - 10 October 1875 / Saint Petersburg)

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,
Silent, unexpressed--
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

  • (2/14/2011 4:40:00 AM)


    Outstanding poem. The poet of Tolstoy's calibre could write it.
    He drew a scene of autumn before our eyes. The poem is extremely rich in imagery and style.
    Great write.
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Poem Submitted: Monday, April 19, 2010



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