AUTUMN Autumn,the year breathes dully towards its death, beside its dying sacrificial fire, the dim worlds middle-age of vain desire is strangely troubled,waiting for the breath that speaks the winters welcome malison to fix it in the unremembering sleep, the silent woods brood oer an anxious deep, & in the faded sorrow of the sun, I see my dreams dead colours one by one, forth-conjurd from their smouldering palaces, fade slowly with the sigh of the passing year. They wander not nor wring their hands nor weep, discrownd belated dreams but in the drear & lingering world we sit among the trees & bow our heads as they,with frozen mouth, looking,in ashen reverie,towards the clear sad splendour of the winter of the far south. ~Christopher Brennan
Posted on: Mon, 02 Dec 2013 18:40:47 +0000
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