 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
The Dying Leaf
'Tis not a natural law alone,
By which the dying leaf
Falls whirling, when its work is done,
Unto the ground beneath.
By which the dying leaf
Falls whirling, when its work is done,
Unto the ground beneath.
Before the rising autumn blast
Commissioned was to bear
The little leaf, once bound so fast,
And whirl it through the air;
Commissioned was to bear
The little leaf, once bound so fast,
And whirl it through the air;
The Lord of Life had checked the tide,
Which through its fibres flowed;
And, to its being, had denied
The gift He once bestowed.
Which through its fibres flowed;
And, to its being, had denied
The gift He once bestowed.
The gift of life, mysterious thing!
That form and substance gave;
Which filled its tender veins in spring,
And made it gladsome wave:
That form and substance gave;
Which filled its tender veins in spring,
And made it gladsome wave:
But now, recalled, leaves hard and dry,
The sport of lightest wind,
The leaf, which once could storms defy,
Though all their blasts combined.
The sport of lightest wind,
The leaf, which once could storms defy,
Though all their blasts combined.
Poem No. 727; 25 October 1849
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