Walter de la Mare
Kent / England
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AUTUMN (November)

Rating: 3.4
There is a wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.

Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
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COMMENTS
Valentina Fan 01 August 2020
is there a metaphor in " beneath the thorn" ?
1 0 Reply
Baarakallah feeq
0 0 Reply
Susan Williams 09 July 2018
Fall is so very melancholy yet in nature the season is a season of rest and restoration..... would that loss of human. life were that way
0 0 Reply
Palak 30 May 2018
Wow love this poem
0 0 Reply
Carolyn Solomon 29 March 2008
What a sad and beautiful poem about the death of a child. Very moving.
1 1 Reply
Irving Montero 28 December 2004
Delicious poem! very warm! ! !
1 0 Reply

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