 | The ghost's entry and other poems |  |
66
II
AMONG FALLEN LEAVES
In the Indian Summer Haze
I love to steal my way
Through the bright woods, when Autumn's work is done
And through the tree-tops all the dream-like day
Breathes the soft golden sun;
Through the bright woods, when Autumn's work is done
And through the tree-tops all the dream-like day
Breathes the soft golden sun;
When all is hushed and still,
Only a few last leaves, each fluttering slow
Down the warm air with ne'er a breeze's will—
A ghost of sound below;
Only a few last leaves, each fluttering slow
Down the warm air with ne'er a breeze's will—
A ghost of sound below;
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When naught of song is heard,
Save the jay laughing while all Nature grieves,
Or the lone chirp of some forgotten bird
Among the fallen leaves. ...
Save the jay laughing while all Nature grieves,
Or the lone chirp of some forgotten bird
Among the fallen leaves. ...
Around me everywhere
Lie leaves that trembled green the Summer long,
Holding the rainbow's tears in sunny air,
And roofed the Summer's song.
Lie leaves that trembled green the Summer long,
Holding the rainbow's tears in sunny air,
And roofed the Summer's song.
Why shun my steps to tread
These silent hosts that everywhere are strown,
As if my feet were walking 'mong the dead,
And I alive alone?
These silent hosts that everywhere are strown,
As if my feet were walking 'mong the dead,
And I alive alone?
Hast no bright trees, O Past!
Through whose bare boughs, once green, the sunshine grieves?
No hopes that fluttered in the Autumnal blast,
No memories—fallen leaves?
Through whose bare boughs, once green, the sunshine grieves?
No hopes that fluttered in the Autumnal blast,
No memories—fallen leaves?
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