poet Walter Savage Landor

Walter Savage Landor

#349 on top 500 poets

Late Leaves

THE leaves are falling; so am I;
The few late flowers have moisture in the eye;
   So have I too.
Scarcely on any bough is heard
Joyous, or even unjoyous, bird
   The whole wood through.

Winter may come: he brings but nigher
His circle (yearly narrowing) to the fire
   Where old friends meet.
Let him; now heaven is overcast,
And spring and summer both are past,
   And all things sweet.

Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 4, 2003

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Read poems about / on: winter, summer, spring, fire, heaven, flower, friend