Poem by Charles George Douglas Roberts

Monition

   A faint wind, blowing from World's End, 
     Made strange the city street. 
   A strange sound mingled in the fall 
     Of the familiar feet. 
   Something unseen whirled with the leaves 
     To tap on door and sill. 
   Something unknown went whispering by 
     Even when the wind was still. 
   And men looked up with startled eyes 
    And hurried on their way, 
  As if they had been called, and told 
    How brief their day.

1. The Potato Harvest
2. The Frosted Pane
3. The Aim
4. The Autumn Thistles
5. At the Gates of Spring

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