The passage of dead leaves in spring
Is like the aged vanishing.
Amid the bustle and delight
Of beauty thronging sound and sight,
Their lengthened course we hardly know
Nor mark their exit when they go.
Yet through the burst of budding green
And blossoms rich with varied sheen
A brown leaf sometimes flutters by
And breeds a sombre revery.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Brown Leaves by Gamaliel Bradford )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Enough Hate, Michael McParland
- Endless Deep Beauty, Michael McParland
- Electricity, Michael McParland
- In The Summer After "Issue Year&quo.., Roberta Hill Whiteman
- Fearing dark, gajanan mishra
- Haidouk Song, Nikola Vaptsarov
- My Country's Mine, Nikola Vaptsarov
- A Song, Nikola Vaptsarov
- Land, Nikola Vaptsarov
- My Country, Nikola Vaptsarov