Hokku 8
Sudden pain of earth
I hear in the fallen leaf.
"Life's autumn," I cry.
Poems on the topic: autumn
Poems on the topic “autumn” on Poets.by.
Hokku 65
I turned my face not to see
Flowers or leaves;
'Tis the autumn eve
With the falling light.
How solitary the cottage stands
By the sea!
Hokku 12
Leaves blown,
Birds flown away.
I wander in and out the Hall of Autumn.
Five O'clock
Let us go far away from buttered toast,
And tea, and marmalade, and all of it.
The feathered jostling of their hats, the wit
Unhumorous — I can not bear this host
Of warm, sweet women! Everything offends.
The murmurous movement of each gleaming bead,
Sly laughter on soft lips that do not feed
So much on tea as on their absent friends.
I knew you understood because your eyes
Were beckoning across the crowd to me.
Oh Child, who have so strangely learned to be
Unconsciously, mysteriously wise!
We went away, unnoticed, from the room
Into the drip of slow, autumnal rain.
And laughed, and drew deep breath, and laughed again,
We were so glad to leave that candled gloom.
Lifetime
I am the river, I have been immense
With hope, great as the inner heart of spring-
The reeds have huddled to my whimpering
Amid the noon-time's staleness and suspense.
Between the ruins of magnificence.
Stained and autumnal, mournfully I sing,
And then among my white beards muttering
Grow old, and sleep into indifference.
I have no returning, onward is best.
Close to the dark, sweet earth in every place.
But with the sky's mark hidden in my breast.
And a star's shadow falling on my face.
Where shining spaces wait to fill with me,
Death is the beautiful and bitter sea.
A Child's Song to Her Mother
The lovely years went lightly by
As April flowers go,
And often you would laugh or cry
To see how I could grow.
The lonely years drift by in rain,
As leaves in autumn do.
I long, when we shall meet again,
To be as tall as you.
Turn Me to My Yellow Leaves
Turn me to my yellow leaves,
I am better satisfied;
There is something in me grieves--
That was never born, and died.
Let me be a scarlet flame
On a windy autumn morn,
I who never had a name,
Nor from breathing image born.
From the margin let me fall
Where the farthest stars sink down,
And the void consumes me,--all
In nothingness to drown.
Let me dream my dream entire,
Withered as an autumn leaf--
Let me have my vain desire,
Vain--as it is brief.
Sandy Star: Sculptured Worship
The zones of warmth around his heart,
No alien airs had crossed;
But he awoke one morn to feel
The magic numbness of autumnal frost.
His thoughts were a loose skein of threads,
And tangled emotions, vague and dim;
And sacrificing what he loved
He lost the dearest part of him.
In sculptured worship now he lives,
His one desire a prisoned ache;
If he can never melt again
His very heart will break.
Old Ben
Sad is old Ben Thistlewaite,
Now his day is done,
And all his children
Far away are gone.
He sits beneath his jasmined porch,
His stick between his knees,
His eyes fixed vacant
On his moss-grown trees.
Grass springs in the green path,
His flowers are lean and dry,
His thatch hangs in wisps against
The evening sky.
He has no heart to care now,
Though the winds will blow
Whistling in his casement,
And the rain drip thro'.
Lines from "The Soul's Destroyer"
We went together side by side to school,
Together had our holidays in fields
Made golden by June's buttercups ; in woods,
Where under ferns fresh pulled I buried her,
And called her forth like Lazarus from the grave;
She'd laughing come, to shake her curls until
Methought to hear full half a hundred bells.
A grown-up world took playful notice soon.
Made me feel shame that grew a greater love;
She was more chary of her laughter then,
And more subdued her voice, as soft and sweet
As Autumn's, blowing through his golden reeds.
In her sweet sympathies she was a woman
When scarcely she was more than child in years ;
And yet one angry moment parted us.
And days of longing never joined us more.
The Wild Swans at Coole
The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine and fifty swans.
The nineteenth Autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.
I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
Love-Free
I AM free of love as a bird flying south in the autumn,
Swift and intent, asking no joy from another,
Glad to forget all of the passion of April
Ere it was love-free.
I am free of love, and I listen to music lightly,
But if he returned, if he should look at me deeply,
I should awake, I should awake and remember
I am my lover's.
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