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A Song of Autumn

By Arthur Hugh Clough

Topics: classic

My wind is turned to bitter north,     That was so soft a south before;     My sky, that shone so sunny bright,     With foggy gloom is clouded oer     My gay green leaves are yellow-black,     Upon the dank autumnal floor;     For love, departed once, comes back     No more again, no more.     A roofless ruin lies my home,     For winds to blow and rains to pour;     One frosty night befell, and lo,     I find my summer days are oer:     The heart bereaved, of why and how     Unknowing, knows that yet before     It had what een to Memory now     Returns no more, no more.

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"My wind is turned to bitter north,..."

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Author:Arthur Hugh Clough

"My wind is turned to bitter north,..." by Arthur Hugh Clough

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"The Text is taken from Percy's Reliques (1765), vol. i. p. 71, 'given from two MS. copies, transmitted from Scotland.' Herd had a very similar bal"

Arthur Hugh Clough

About Arthur Hugh Clough

Arthur Hugh Clough (1819–1861) was an English poet whose work explores Victorian doubt and moral uncertainty. His poems "Say Not the Struggle Naught Availeth" and "The Latest Decalogue" are sharp, thoughtful, and still widely anthologized.

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"Cease, empty Faith, the Spectrum saith,     I was,..."

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