THE SPIRIT OF THE FALL
by: Danske Dandridge (1854-1914)
- OME, on thy swaying feet,
- Wild Spirit of the Fall!
- With wind-blown skirts, loose hair of russet-brown,
- Crowned with bright berries of the bittersweet.
-
- Trip a light measure with the hurrying leaf,
- Straining thy few late roses to thy breast,
- With laughter over-gay, sweet eyes drooped down,
- That none may guess thy grief.
- Dare not to pause for rest
- Lest the slow tears should gather to their fall.
-
- But when the cold moon rises o'er the hill,
- The last numb crickets cease, and all is still,
- Face down thou liest on the frosty ground
- Strewed with thy fortune's wreck, alas, thine all--
- ................
- There, on a winter dawn, thy corse I found,
- Lone Spirit of the Fall.
"The Spirit of the Fall"
is reprinted from The Little Book of American Poets: 1787-1900.
Ed. Jessie B. Rittenhouse. Cambridge: Riverside Press, 1915. |
MORE
POEMS BY DANSKE DANDRIDGE |
|