The autumn morning sweetly calls to me,
And autumn days and nights in patience wait;
I answer not, because I am not free,
Although I chose my fate.
The cold, gray mist that stains the city walls
Stands silver-columned where the river glides,
Or, slow dividing, on the valley falls,
Where one I love abides.
The wind that trifles round my city door,
Or whirls before me all the city's dust,
By the sea borrows its triumphant roar,
And lends its savage gust;
Or shrieking rushes where the sombre pines
Hold solemn converse in the ancient vale,
And while 't is dying in their dark confines
Babbles their mystic tale.
Could I but climb a roof above my own,
And greet grave Autumn as he walks the earth
With secret signal that would make me known,
I should not feel my dearth.
Then silver mist or loud triumphant wind
Might come in sad disguise and misery;
I would but ponder in my secret mind
How Autumn answers me.
In The City
Elizabeth Stoddard
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Poem topics: dark, fate, feel, river, sad, sea, earth, wait, answer, mind, door, cold, morning, roof, ancient, patience, valley, grave, hold, dust, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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Fareed Mobolaji-Ogunsanya: I like how you used homophones and ryheming word to discribe the poem and you are the best poet
f obolaji-Ogunsanya: I like your poem because I like how you used alitraies
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