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Poem by Thomas MacDonagh The Seasons and the Leaves Now when the storms have driven out the cold The Spring comes in with buds in tender sheaf The Spring comes in with buds, the Winter flown, The Winter fled and dead -- the May will fold Around us the soft clothing we have known In dreams of Joy when Calm lulled storm and leaf The lurking showers patter down the May And wash to glory all the yellow gleam That loves with light and gold and greens to play On bole and bough and spray -- But after Summer, Autumn's quiet beam Comes, and the West Wind, and the skies are grey-- And then the leaves grow heavy, the soul grows old, Old as an age within a little day, When once they see the doubtful dim extreme, When belfries of the Winter once have tolled The knells of death, then dross is all their gold. Thomas MacDonagh Thomas MacDonagh's other poems: 1182 Views |
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