Cold wind of autumn, blowing loud
At dawn, a fortnight overdue,
Jostling the doors, and tearing through
My bedroom to rejoin the cloud,
I know—for I can hear the hiss
And scrape of leaves along the floor—
How may boughs, lashed bare by this,
Will rake the cluttered sky once more.
Tardy, and somewhat south of east,
The sun will rise at length, made known
More by the meagre light increased
Than by a disk in splendour shown;
When, having but to turn my head,
Through the stripped maple I shall see,
Bleak and remembered, patched with red,
The hill all summer hid from me.
..........beautiful poem, very poetic, amazingly penned ★
This to me, is as close as to perfection as poetry can be.I love her style of imagery, stinging loneliness and colour in construction.So wonderful a write. E St V Millay one of my heroic writers….!
Simply superb narration of the day break in autumn accompanied by naughty mischief of cold wind and it's aftermath. A lovely poem, indeed. Thanks for sharing it here.
Rhythm, rhyme and meter... all evident in this lovely poem on Autumn... I loved the last two lines - Bleak and remembered, patched in red, The hill all summer hid from me. It carries deeper meaning. Full Marks ++10!
I know- for I can hear the hiss. Well communicated and expressed. Sylva
Beautiful poem about Autumn. Enjoyed the wordplay and smooth flow. Liked it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love this poem! So much vivid imagery.