Autumn
There is a wind where the rose was;
Cold rain where sweet grass was;
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought gold where your hair was;
Nought warm where your hand was;
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Sad winds where your voice was;
Tears, tears where my heart was;
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
Walter De La Mare
The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets.
Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.