The Legend of the Golden Prayers and other poems By C. F. Alexander |
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WITHERED LEAVES. |
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 | The Legend of the Golden Prayers and other poems |  |
WITHERED LEAVES.
Delicate leaves, with your shifting colours,
Crimson and golden, or russet brown,
Under what sunsets of calm October,
Out of what groves were ye shaken down?
Crimson and golden, or russet brown,
Under what sunsets of calm October,
Out of what groves were ye shaken down?
When the sun, dying in red and amber,
Tinted the woods with the hues he wore,
As the stain'd light in a great cathedral,
Through the east-window, falls on the floor.
Tinted the woods with the hues he wore,
As the stain'd light in a great cathedral,
Through the east-window, falls on the floor.
In your high homes where the tall shafts quiver,
And the green boughs, like a trellis, cross,
When ye grow brighter, and change, and wither,
Symbols ye are of our gain and loss.
And the green boughs, like a trellis, cross,
When ye grow brighter, and change, and wither,
Symbols ye are of our gain and loss.
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Hopes that we cherish'd, and grand ideals,
Dreams that to colour and substance grew,
Ah! they were lofty and green and golden,
Now they lie dead on our hearts like you.
Dreams that to colour and substance grew,
Ah! they were lofty and green and golden,
Now they lie dead on our hearts like you.
Silent as snow from his airy chamber,
Down on the earth drops the wither'd leaf,
Silently back, on the heart of the dreamer,
Noticed of none, falls the secret grief.
Down on the earth drops the wither'd leaf,
Silently back, on the heart of the dreamer,
Noticed of none, falls the secret grief.
Yet ye deceive us, beautiful prophets;
For like one side of an ocean shell,
Cast by the tide on a dripping sand-beach,
Only a half of the truth ye tell.
For like one side of an ocean shell,
Cast by the tide on a dripping sand-beach,
Only a half of the truth ye tell.
Much of decadence and death ye sing us,
Rightly ye tell us earth's hopes are vain,
But of the life out of death no whisper,
Saying, “We die, but we live again.”
Rightly ye tell us earth's hopes are vain,
But of the life out of death no whisper,
Saying, “We die, but we live again.”
Bring us some teacher, O leaves Autumnal,
Some voice to sing, from your crimson skies,
Of the home where our hope is immortal,
Of the land where the leaf never dies.
Some voice to sing, from your crimson skies,
Of the home where our hope is immortal,
Of the land where the leaf never dies.
| The Legend of the Golden Prayers and other poems | |