Friday, October 31, 2008

 

Last Week in October

Thomas Hardy, Last Week in October:
      The trees are undressing, and fling in many places—
      On the gray road, the roof, the window-sill—
      Their radiant robes and ribbons and yellow laces;
      A leaf each second so is flung at will,
Here, there, another and another, still and still.

      A spider's web has caught one while downcoming,
      That stays there dangling when the rest pass on;
      Like a suspended criminal hangs he, mumming
      In golden garb, while one yet green, high yon,
Trembles, as fearing such a fate for himself anon.



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