Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

(27 February 1807 – 24 March 1882 / Portland, Maine)

Autumn Within - Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

It is autumn; not without
But within me is the cold.
Youth and spring are all about;
It is I that have grown old.

Birds are darting through the air,
Singing, building without rest;
Life is stirring everywhere,
Save within my lonely breast.

There is silence: the dead leaves
Fall and rustle and are still;
Beats no flail upon the sheaves,
Comes no murmur from the mill.


Comments about Autumn Within by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  • (5/14/2018 3:01:00 PM)


    It is an intresting peom and also a sad peom (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Tapan M. Saren (4/29/2017 7:58:00 PM)


    O yea, very very beautiful poem it is. (Report) Reply

  • (11/25/2016 5:24:00 PM)


    As with everyone, in nostalgia, Longfellow addresses the twilight of his years. (Report) Reply

  • (8/24/2015 10:11:00 AM)


    ...so poignant and nicely penned, the poet was in a pensive mood ★ (Report) Reply

  • (10/14/2006 8:28:00 PM)


    Seems like this may have been written when Longfellow was in his twilight years, or at a time when there was a great deal of turmoil going on in his life. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: autumn, lonely, silence, spring, life



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002



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