Late Autumn
The fields lie bare before me now, The fruit is gathered in, Not even seen a grazing cow, Nor heard the blackbird's din. The heath is brown, and ivy pale, The woodbine berries red, And withered leaves borne on the gale Sink down on peaty bed. At morn the fence was covered o'er With a pale sheet of rime; The earth was like a marble floor, But now is turned to grime. For Autumn rains are falling fast, And swells the running brook; The Indian Summer, too, is past; For snowfall soon we look.
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"The fields lie bare before me now,..."
This evocative piece by Joseph Horatio Chant, titled "Late Autumn", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...