Mathilde Blind

(1841 - 1896 / Germany)

The Evening Of The Year - Poem by Mathilde Blind

Wan mists enwrap the still-born day;
The harebell withers on the heath;
And all the moorland seems to breathe
The hectic beauty of decay.
Within the open grave of May
Dishevelled trees drop wreath on wreath;
Wind-wrung and ravelled underneath
Waste leaves choke up the woodland way.

The grief of many partings near
Wails like an echo in the wind:
The days of love lie far behind,
The days of loss lie shuddering near.
Life's morning-glory who shall bind?
It is the evening of the year.


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Read poems about / on: loss, grief, wind, beauty, life, tree



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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