The speaker watches the wind call the leaves to follow, as they once longed to do in spring. Now, instead of flying, they grow heavy with sleep and ask the wind to stay. Their answer to his blast becomes a faint, reluctant stir that barely moves them. It is an autumn scene, but also a quiet picture of failing nerve. The leaves had dreamed of freedom, yet when the moment comes they prefer a wall, a thicket, any sheltered place. The speaker turns this into a personal misgiving: when he is finally free to seek the knowledge beyond life, he hopes he will not also find rest more appealing than the journey. The mood is reflective and a little melancholy, full of sympathy for those who lose their resolve at the last minute.
Misgiving — Summary
All crying ‘We will go with you, O Wind!’ The foliage follow him, leaf and stem; But a sleep oppresses them as they go, And they end by bidding him stay with them.
Since ever they flung abroad in spring The leaves had promised themselves this flight, Who now would fain seek sheltering wall, Or thicket, or hollow place for the night:
And now they answer his summoning blast With an ever vaguer and vaguer stir, Or at utmost a little reluctant whirl That drops them no further than where they were.
I only hope that when I am free As they are free to go in quest Of the knowledge beyond the bounds of life It may not seem better to me to rest.