Spring And Autumn
Poem by Francis Ledwidge
Green ripples singing down the corn,
With blossoms dumb the path I tread,
And in the music of the morn
One with wild roses on her head.
Now the green ripples turn to gold
And all the paths are loud with rain,
I with desire am growing old
And full of winter pain.
Comments about Spring And Autumn by Francis Ledwidge
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.