The tawny colors of early autumn set off a wave of memory. As grapes darken to purple and sunsets arrive earlier over the trellis, the speaker keeps seeing the face of someone who is gone. The poem turns the season into a quiet, almost tender presence: pale frost is welcomed on the fields, yellow balls roll over the hills, and pumpkin flowers stretch in lines of orange. Everything is ripening or cooling, caught between summer’s heat and winter’s stillness. That in-between feeling matches the speaker’s mood—wistful, fond, and a little lonely. The repeated line “your face comes back” suggests that the landscape itself calls up this person, so the external world and inner memory blur together. Autumn here is not just scenery; it is a season of return, colored by longing and the ache of beauty.
Tawny — Summary
These are the tawny days : your face comes back. The grapes take on purple: the sunsets redden early on the trellis. The bashful mornings hurl gray mist on the stripes of sunrise. Creep, silver on the field, the frost is welcome. Run on, yellow balls on the hills, and you tawny pumpkin flowers, chasing your lines of orange. Tawny days: and your face again.