Francis Ledwidge’s two short stanzas move from the freshness of spring to the ache of autumn, using the seasons as a mirror for a human life. In the opening, everything feels alive and gentle: green grain ripples, the morning seems musical, and someone with wild roses in her hair walks along a path where the blossoms are silent. It is a picture of youth, beauty, and calm. The second stanza shifts toward loss. The green corn has turned to harvest gold, rain fills the paths with noise, and the speaker feels desire still stirring even as age and sorrow close in. That final phrase, “full of winter pain,” suggests a coldness that has already arrived inside him. The mood is bittersweet and wistful—not simply about changing weather, but about watching vibrancy fade into a lonelier season, and feeling that change in your own body and heart.
Spring and Autumn — Summary
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.