Autumn Poem by Thomas Hood


Rating: 2.7

I Saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like Silence, listening
To silence, for no lonely bird would sing
Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn,
Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;—
Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright
With tangled gossamer that fell by night,
Pearling his coronet of golden corn.

Where are the songs of Summer?—With the sun,
Oping the dusky eyelids of the south,
Till shade and silence waken up as one,
And Morning sings with a warm odorous mouth.
Where are the merry birds?—Away, away,
On panting wings through the inclement skies,
Lest owls should prey
Undazzled at noonday,
And tear with horny beak their lustrous eyes.

Where are the blooms of Summer?—In the west,
Blushing their last to the last sunny hours,
When the mild Eve by sudden Night is prest
Like tearful Proserpine, snatch'd from her flow'rs
To a most gloomy breast.
Where is the pride of Summer,—the green prime,—
The many, many leaves all twinkling?—Three
On the moss'd elm; three on the naked lime
Trembling,—and one upon the old oak-tree!
Where is the Dryad's immortality?—
Gone into mournful cypress and dark yew,
Or wearing the long gloomy Winter through
In the smooth holly's green eternity.

The squirrel gloats on his accomplish'd hoard,
The ants have brimm'd their garners with ripe grain,
And honey bees have stored
The sweets of Summer in their luscious cells;
The swallows all have wing'd across the main;
But here the Autumn melancholy dwells,
And sighs her tearful spells
Amongst the sunless shadows of the plain.
Alone, alone,
Upon a mossy stone,
She sits and reckons up the dead and gone
With the last leaves for a love-rosary,
Whilst all the wither'd world looks drearily,
Like a dim picture of the drownèd past
In the hush'd mind's mysterious far away,
Doubtful what ghostly thing will steal the last
Into that distance, gray upon the gray.

O go and sit with her, and be o'ershaded
Under the languid downfall of her hair:
She wears a coronal of flowers faded
Upon her forehead, and a face of care;—
There is enough of wither'd everywhere
To make her bower,—and enough of gloom;
There is enough of sadness to invite,
If only for the rose that died, whose doom
Is Beauty's,—she that with the living bloom
Of conscious cheeks most beautifies the light:
There is enough of sorrowing, and quite
Enough of bitter fruits the earth doth bear,—
Enough of chilly droppings for her bowl;
Enough of fear and shadowy despair,
To frame her cloudy prison for the soul!

Glen Kappy 13 October 2017

This is a panoramic view of autumn. Something I noticed, though, is that the poem begins referring to autumn with the prnoun his and ends by referring to it as her and she. - GK

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Kumarmani Mahakul 13 October 2017

In silence in magical mood seeing autumn at misty morning and feeling essence is great perspective. On panting wings through the inclement skies birds chirp with love and hope. Sorrows go far and light gives joy. An excellent imagery of autumn is greatly painted here from deep perception. ..10

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Bernard F. Asuncion 13 October 2017

Such a great poem by Thomas Hood......

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M Asim Nehal 20 December 2016

Great imagery of a wonderful season.....thanks for sharing.

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John S 11 November 2020

I like the personification of fall. In the misty morn, FALL, stood shadowless like silence. Fall shakes his languid locks, full of cobwebs, and where’s a crown of corn. Great descriptive language: woods forlorn, solitary thorn The sun opens the dusky eyelids of the south. Shade and silence awaken (in the summer that is) Fall where’s a crown of faded flowers.

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TO long 31 May 2018

TO long for me to read so nope not reading

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Abhisek Bandopadhyay 14 October 2017

Probably the most beautifully penned piece I've read in a while. Thank you for sharing

1 1 Reply
James Mclain 13 October 2017

Genuis like this Generally have for some unexplained reason Short life spans. Or do they grow bored and leave what they take Early on.. iip.. James

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Subhas Chandra Chakra 13 October 2017

A great write by the poet, furnished so well.

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Thomas Hood

Thomas Hood

London / England
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