 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
Autumn Days
The winds are out with loud increasing shout,Where late before them walked the biting frost;
Whirling the leaves in their wild sport about,
And strewing twig and limb our path acrost;
But still the sun looks kindly on the year,
And days of summer warmth will linger yet;
And still the birds amid the fields we hear,
For the ripe grain and scattered seeds they get;
The shortening days grow slowly less and less,
And winter comes with many a warning on;
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Till the last hope's deceit is fledged and gone;
Before the deepening snows block up the way,
And the sweet fields are made of howling blasts the prey.
Poem No. 595; fall 1839
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |