Poems (Tree)/Woods of Brown Gloom Sombring with the Hush of Death
WOODS of brown gloom sombring with the hush of death,Wind's lassitude that sets the tired leaves shivering,Starved yellow leaves sighing beneath the feet, a breathConsumptive, old, and fever-red leaves quivering,As with an earthward flutter like a ghostly butterflyListless they perish, wavering and hovering.Skeleton branches where the rooks flap wings and cry,Perched upon ribs and fingers; and the white mists coveringThe far-off hills and bloodless visage of the sun.No noise save the meandering dribble of a rivulet,No noise save of the slow hours dropping one by oneAs embers, no colour save Time's ashen coverlet. . . .How melancholy here the gayest tunes would soundFrom shrill carousers riotous and merry all,As echoes of lost joy their dancing feet upon the ground,As funeral bagpipes at a burial.And I who wander passionless and forlorn,A leaf-forsaken tree symbolic of dejection,In rags of old desires, dispirited and torn,See in the stagnant glass of Time my soul's reflection.
1916