Thomas Sharp

Autumn Woods (1918)

Upon the woods at midnight broke the dread
Cavalry of the winds. The fell hosts tore
Through the embattled boughs with an uproar
Like spume of dragons roused from ocean-bed.
Then through the fury sounded overhead
The hissing of invisible blades that shore
Ten thousand leaves: stark on the woodland floor
Oncoming dawn revealed them piled red.

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