Lines To A Withered Leaf Seen On A Poet's Table
Poet's hand has placed thee there,
Autumn's brown and withered scroll!
Though to outward eye not fair,
Thou hast beauty for the soul,
Though no human pen has traced
On that leaf its learned lore,
Love divine the page has graced,—
What can words discover more?
Not alone dim Autumn's blast
Echoes from yon tablet sear,—
Distant music of the Past
Steals upon the poet's ear.
Voices sweet of summer hours,
Spring's soft whispers murmur by;
Feathered songs from leafy bowers
Draw his listening soul on high.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Lines To A Withered Leaf Seen On A Poet's Table by Jones Very )
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
- I Will Bathe My Dreams, Kyle Schlicher
- For what is my purpose?, The Princess
- Mother. Mother., beresford mitchell
- In the waiting room, Anna Garland
- THEY CAN NOT KILL THEIR WILL لايقدرون عل.., MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Haiku And Fruit, Kyle Schlicher
- Short Circuited To Ignite, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- waiting for Autumn, Frederick J.B. Moore II
- In Gratitude, Sandra Feldman
- My life, Abekah Emmanuel