Autumn At Annisquam
The bitter-sweet and red-haw in her hands, And in her hair pale berries of the bay, She haunts the coves and every Cape Ann way, The Indian, Autumn, wandered from her bands. Beside the sea, upon a rock, she stands, And looks across the foam, and straight the grey Takes on a sunset tone, and all the day Murmurs with music of forgotten lands. Now in the woods, knee-deep among the ferns, She walks and smiles and listens to the pines, The sweetheart pines, that kiss and kiss again, Whispering their love: and now she frowns and turns And in the west the fog in ragged lines Rears the wild wigwams of the tribes of rain.
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"The bitter-sweet and red-haw in her hands,..."
Madison Julius Cawein's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Autumn At Annisquam"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...