Autumn Storm
The wind is rising and the leaves are swept Wildly before it, hundreds on hundreds fall Huddling beneath the trees. With brag and brawl Of storm the day is grown a tavern, kept Of madness, where, with mantles torn and ripped Of flying leaves that beat above it all, The wild winds fight; and, like some half-spent ball, The acorn stings the rout; and, silver-stripped, The milkweed-pod winks an exhausted lamp: Now, in his coat of tatters dark that streams, The ragged rain sweeps stormily this way, With all his clamorous followers clouds that camp Around the hearthstone of the west where gleams The last chill flame of the expiring day.
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About this line
"The wind is rising and the leaves are swept..."
"Autumn Storm" is a quintessential example of Madison Julius Cawein's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...