Autumn

 

 

 

Heinrich Vogeler

Autumn

 

There is wind where the rose was;

Cold rain where the sweet grass was;

And clouds like sheep

 Stream o'er the steep

Grey skies where the lark was. 

 

Nought gold where your hair was;

Nought warm where your hand was;

But phantom, forlorn,

Beneath the thorn,

Your ghost where your face was.

 

Sad winds where your voice was;

Tears, tears where my heart was;

And ever with me,

Child, ever with me,

Silence where hope was.

 

Walter de la Mare 

 

 

 A painful anniversary.