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Fri, 16 Oct 2009
North Wind in October by Robert Seymore Bridges. A beautiful poem with wonderful colours.
NORTH WIND IN
OCTOBER
In the golden glade the
chestnutsare fallen all ; From the sered boughs
of the oak the acorns fall
: The beech
scatters her ruddy fire ; The lime has
stripped to the
cold, And standeth naked above her yellow
attire The larch thinneth her spire To lay
the ways of the wood with cloth of
gold.
Out of
the golden-green and
white Of the brake the fir trees stand
upright In the forest of flame, and wave
aloft To the blue of heaven .their blue-green
tuftings soft But swiftly in shuddering gloom
the splendours fail, As the harrying North wind
beareth A cloud of skirmishing hail The
grieved woodland to smite : In a hurricane
through the trees he
teareth, Taking the boughs and the leaves
rending, And whistleth to the
descending Blow of his icy flail. Gold and
snow he mixeth in spite, And whirleth afar
: as away on his winnowing flight He
passeth, and all again for awhile is
bright.
By Robert Seymour Bridges,
(23 October 1844 – 21 April 1930) was
an English poet, and poet
laureate from 1913 to
1930.
North Wind in October by Robert Seymore Bridges. A beautiful poem with wonderful colours.
