The Autumn Waste
There is no break in all the wide grey sky, Nor light on any field, and the wind grieves, And talks of death. Where cold grey waters lie Round greyer stones, and the new-fallen leaves Heap the chill hollows of the naked woods, A lisping moan, an inarticulate cry, Creeps far among the charnel solitudes, Numbing the waste with mindless misery. In these bare paths, these melancholy lands, What dream, or flesh, could ever have been young? What lovers have gone forth with linkd hands? What flowers could ever have bloomed, what birds have sung? Life, hopes, and human things seem wrapped away, With shrouds and spectres, in one long decay.
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"There is no break in all the wide grey sky,..."
This evocative piece by Archibald Lampman, titled "The Autumn Waste", 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...