The Departure of Summer

Summer is gone on swallows’ wings,
And Earth has buried all her flowers:
No more the lark, the linnet sings,
But Silence sits in faded bowers.
There is a shadow on the plain
Of Winter ere he comes again,–
There is in woods a solemn sound
Of hollow warnings whispered round,
As Echo in her deep recess
For once had turned a prophetess.
Shuddering Autumn stops to list,
And breathes his fear in sudden sighs,
With clouded face, and hazel eyes
That quench themselves, and hide in mist.

Thomas Hood



One thought on “The Departure of Summer

  1. Nice posts over here, thanks.

    My father is an artist, so the pictures on your blogg are getting me back to my childhood, where I was sitting for hours, carefully watching my father with his palete and brush, creating magic on the canvas, and I couldnt understand how that small thiny lines can make some Rembrandt at the end.

    Yes, nice times, to see the inspiration working and I really could touch it.

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