Autumn Days Poem by Lord Alfred Douglas

Autumn Days

Rating: 3.5


I have been through the woods to-day
And the leaves were falling,
Summer had crept away,
And the birds were not calling.

And the bracken was like yellow gold
That comes too late,
When the heart is sad and old,
And death at the gate.

Ah, mournful Autumn ! Sad,
Slow death that comes at last,
I am mad for a yesterday, mad !
I am sick for a year that is past!

Though the sun be like blood in the sky
He is cold as the lips of hate,
And he fires the sere leaves as they lie
On their bed of earth, too late.

They are dead, and the bare trees weep
Not loud as a mortal weeping,
But as sorrow that sighs in sleep,
And as grief that is still in sleeping.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Bernard F. Asuncion 29 March 2017

Bare trees weep.... thanks for posting....

3 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 29 March 2017

Grief! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

2 1 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 29 March 2017

Through the woods! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

1 1 Reply
Kumarmani Mahakul 29 March 2017

Summer had crept away and leaves were falling down. Birds were not calling. Slow death signed with sadness. In autumn sun came like blood in sky. The bare trees wept. Grief went for sleeping while autumn came. A great imagery is drawn that enhances mind.....10

2 0 Reply
Kumarmani Mahakul 29 March 2017

Summer had crept away and leaves were falling down. Birds were not calling. Slow death signed with sadness. In autumn sun came like blood in sky. The bare trees wept. Grief went for sleeping while autumn came.

1 0 Reply
MAHTAB BANGALEE 24 October 2022

Let nature survive naturally to care ourselves peacefully on the earth! come, save the nature

0 0 Reply
Riza Braholli 23 August 2018

It's beutyful and fearfulness shakes the flesh...

1 0 Reply
Ratnakar Mandlik 29 March 2017

The lamenting of trees in particular and nature in general over the slow death has been projected in a touching and superb manner. Thanks for sharing it here.

1 0 Reply
Tom Allport 29 March 2017

a sad seasonal poem that's not all gold? .well penned.

2 0 Reply
Anil Kumar Panda 29 March 2017

'Though the sun be like blood in the sky He is cold as the lips of hate, And he fires the sere leaves as they lie On their bed of earth, too late.' is a beautiful stanza. Composed beautifully with use of strong imagery, it is a beautiful poem on Autumn. Liked it.

2 0 Reply
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