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Poem
November 4, 1885
Staunton Spectator
Staunton, Virginia
What is this article about?
A reflective poem on autumn's transformations in nature—golden woodlands, migrating birds, fading blossoms, and somber skies—evoking personal grief over the loss of a loved one, contrasting with others' enjoyment of Indian summer.
Clipping
OCR Quality
95%
Excellent
Full Text
AUTUMN.
Who is it that paints the woodlands
Like a gorgeous gown of gold,
Dropping here and there a ripple,
Of vermilion in each fold?
Who is it that calls the robins
And the blackbirds into bands,
Pointing them with flaming fingers,
To the sunny, "Southern lands?"
What has scorched the tender blossoms—
In our yards they're dying now—
Do you know who kissed the apple
Till it reddened on the bough?
Why so dumb the winding streamlet?
Down the hill it used to leap.
Now I faintly hear it sobbing—
Sobbing out like one in sleep.
Leaden clouds lay on the heavens,
Like a burden on the heart,
And the winds together whisper.
Sad as loved ones ere they part,
Then anon a dreamy dullness
Hovers over sky and earth,
Ah! my soul reflects the sadness.
And I seek my friendly hearth.
You who love the Indian summer
So renowned by pen and art,
Go and revel in the gloaming
While so sadly pants my heart.
No: I can not watch the leaflets
On the whirlwind as they ride,
For just so a hectic fever
Bore my darling from my side
-From the Louisville Courier-Journal.
Who is it that paints the woodlands
Like a gorgeous gown of gold,
Dropping here and there a ripple,
Of vermilion in each fold?
Who is it that calls the robins
And the blackbirds into bands,
Pointing them with flaming fingers,
To the sunny, "Southern lands?"
What has scorched the tender blossoms—
In our yards they're dying now—
Do you know who kissed the apple
Till it reddened on the bough?
Why so dumb the winding streamlet?
Down the hill it used to leap.
Now I faintly hear it sobbing—
Sobbing out like one in sleep.
Leaden clouds lay on the heavens,
Like a burden on the heart,
And the winds together whisper.
Sad as loved ones ere they part,
Then anon a dreamy dullness
Hovers over sky and earth,
Ah! my soul reflects the sadness.
And I seek my friendly hearth.
You who love the Indian summer
So renowned by pen and art,
Go and revel in the gloaming
While so sadly pants my heart.
No: I can not watch the leaflets
On the whirlwind as they ride,
For just so a hectic fever
Bore my darling from my side
-From the Louisville Courier-Journal.
What sub-type of article is it?
Ode
Pastoral
What themes does it cover?
Nature Seasons
Death Mourning
What keywords are associated?
Autumn
Nature Changes
Personal Grief
Indian Summer
Loss Of Loved One
Seasonal Melancholy
What entities or persons were involved?
From The Louisville Courier Journal
Poem Details
Title
Autumn.
Author
From The Louisville Courier Journal
Subject
Autumn And Personal Loss
Form / Style
Rhymed Stanzas
Key Lines
Who Is It That Paints The Woodlands
Like A Gorgeous Gown Of Gold,
Dropping Here And There A Ripple,
Of Vermilion In Each Fold?
For Just So A Hectic Fever
Bore My Darling From My Side