Autumn, by Edwin Curran

Autumn

In ashes lies the lovely rose,
The jonquils blackened on the stem,
The lily withered with its blows
And every bonny gem.
But dust are daffodils outspread,
Each petaled flower dank and curled--
What grief, what crying of the dead
Has brought this sorrow on the world!   Here to the ground the dahlia showers,
No longer leaning on the breeze,
And all the sweet imperial flowers
Drop in this house that spans the seas.
They could not live in so much pain;
Grief fills the house from East to West,
This mighty house that spans the plain
And bends around the skies at rest.   In ashes lies the lovely rose,
The lily withered with its blows
And all the dappled flowers pied
Like ghosts upon each stem,
For all this beauty dropped and died,
Each bonny gem.
They could not keep the bloom and leaf,
They could not live in so much grief.   So every flower, dank and curled,
Dies like the flower of the world.

poems.one - Edwin Curran

Edwin Curran