Limericks :
 
» Limericks
» Limerick Poems - 1
» Limerick Poems - 2
» Limerick Poems - 3
» Limerick Poems - 4
» Limerick Poems - 5
» Limerick Poems - 6
» Random Shakespeare
» Limerick Poems Generator
 
Poems :
 
» Poem Collection - 1

» Poem Collection - 2

» Poem Collection - 3

» Poem Collection - 4

» Poem Collection - 5

» Poem Collection - 6

» Poem Collection - 7

» Poem Collection - 8

» Poem Collection - 9

» Poem Collection - 10

» Poem Collection - 11

» Poem Collection - 12

» Poem Collection - 13

» Poem Collection - 14

» Poem Collection - 15

» Poem Collection - 16

» Poem Collection - 17

» Poem Collection - 18

» Poem Collection - 19

» Poem Collection - 20

» Poem Collection - 21

» Poem Collection - 22

» Poem Collection - 23

» Poem Collection - 24

» Poem Collection - 25

 
Random Limericks :
 
» Collection 1
» Collection 2
» Collection 3
» Collection 4
» Collection 5
 
Great Sites :
 

Fun & Games

Advertise Here

Amusement

Best Baby Names

Christmas Jokes

College Humor

Complete Nonsense

Fairy Tales

Famous Poems

Famous Quotes

Flowers

Framed Posters

Free Diet Plans

Free Song Lyrics

Free View Webcams

Friendship Quotes

Funny Cat Pictures

Funny Cats

Funny Jokes

Funny Jokes Online

Funny Pictures

Funny Poems

Funny Quotes

Ghost Pictures

Ghost Stories

Glaswegian

Healthy Recipes

Humorous Scripts

Humor Posters

Inspirational Poems

Insult Generator

Knock Knock Jokes

Limerick Poems

Limericks

Love Poems

Fantasy Books

Mockery

Model Posters

Movie Posters

Names Meanings

Rabbie Burns

Not Mensa

Photographs

Poet

Poker Articles

Posters

Quotations Online

Random Words

Riddles Online

Odd Jokes

Spam

Sports Posters

Duck Webcam

Strange Laws

Stupid Laws

Tongue Twisters

Top 100 Baby Names

Webmaster Articles

Weird Facts

Weird Websites

Weird

Work From Home

Worst City

Worst Jobs

Worst Jokes

Top Sites

   
Limerick-Poems.com
 

A famous from our database of over 100,000 Poems by famous and some not so famous people.

<< A Brilliant Poem by : Thomas Hood >>

Autumn by Thomas Hood

I Saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like Silence, listening
To silence, for no lonely bird would sing
Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn,
Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;—
Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright
With tangled gossamer that fell by night,
Pearling his coronet of golden corn.

Where are the songs of Summer?—With the sun,
Oping the dusky eyelids of the south,
Till shade and silence waken up as one,
And Morning sings with a warm odorous mouth.
Where are the merry birds?—Away, away,
On panting wings through the inclement skies,
Lest owls should prey
Undazzled at noonday,
And tear with horny beak their lustrous eyes.

Where are the blooms of Summer?—In the west,
Blushing their last to the last sunny hours,
When the mild Eve by sudden Night is prest
Like tearful Proserpine, snatch'd from her flow'rs
To a most gloomy breast.
Where is the pride of Summer,—the green prime,—
The many, many leaves all twinkling?—Three
On the moss'd elm; three on the naked lime
Trembling,—and one upon the old oak-tree!
Where is the Dryad's immortality?—
Gone into mournful cypress and dark yew,
Or wearing the long gloomy Winter through
In the smooth holly's green eternity.

The squirrel gloats on his accomplish'd hoard,
The ants have brimm'd their garners with ripe grain,
And honey bees have stored
The sweets of Summer in their luscious cells;
The swallows all have wing'd across the main;
But here the Autumn melancholy dwells,
And sighs her tearful spells
Amongst the sunless shadows of the plain.
Alone, alone,
Upon a mossy stone,
She sits and reckons up the dead and gone
With the last leaves for a love-rosary,
Whilst all the wither'd world looks drearily,
Like a dim picture of the drownèd past
In the hush'd mind's mysterious far away,
Doubtful what ghostly thing will steal the last
Into that distance, gray upon the gray.

O go and sit with her, and be o'ershaded
Under the languid downfall of her hair:
She wears a coronal of flowers faded
Upon her forehead, and a face of care;—
There is enough of wither'd everywhere
To make her bower,—and enough of gloom;
There is enough of sadness to invite,
If only for the rose that died, whose doom
Is Beauty's,—she that with the living bloom
Of conscious cheeks most beautifies the light:
There is enough of sorrowing, and quite
Enough of bitter fruits the earth doth bear,—
Enough of chilly droppings for her bowl;
Enough of fear and shadowy despair,
To frame her cloudy prison for the soul!


<-- Previous     |     Next -->

 
 

More Poems

 
Limerick-Poems.com
 
 
 
Interesting :
 

 
Custom Search

 

 
   
 
© Website Design Copyright 2009 by Weird-Websites.info