For every leaf, that twirls the breeze, May useful hints and lessons give; The falling leaves and fading trees Will teach and caution us to live. “Wandering clown,” they seem to say, “In us your coming end review: Like you we lived, but now decay; The same sad fate approaches you.” Beneath a yellow fading tree, As red suns light thee, Autumn-morn, In wildest rapture let me see The sweets that most thy charms adorn. O while my eye the landscape views, What countless beauties are display’d; What varied tints of nameless hues, — Shades endless melting into shade. A russet red the hazels gain, As suited to their drear decline; While maples brightest dress retain, And in the gayest yellows shine. The poplar tree hath lost its pride; Its leaves in wan consumption pine; They hoary turn on either side, And life to every gale resign. The stubborn oak, with haughty pride Still in its lingering green, we view; But vain the strength he shows is tried, He tinges slow with sickly hue. The proudest triumph art conceives, Or beauties nature’s power can crown, Grey-bearded time in shatters leaves; Destruction’s trample treads them down. John Clare (1821)
Posted on: Mon, 13 Oct 2014 07:02:24 +0000
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