Occupy Poetry

Late Leaves

BY Walter Savage Landor

THE leaves are falling; so am I;
The few late flowers have moisture in the eye;
So have I too.
Scarcely on any bough is heard
Joyous, or even unjoyous, bird
The whole wood through.

Winter may come: he brings but nigher
His circle (yearly narrowing) to the fire
Where old friends meet.
Let him; now heaven is overcast,
And spring and summer both are past,
And all things sweet.

Newsletter

Help us build the most popular collection of engaged poetry online. ubscribe to Occupy Poetry & Stay tuned!

Back to Top