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Poem by Thomas MacDonagh


In September


The winds are in the wood again to-day,
    Not moaning as they moan among bare boughs
In winter dark, nor baying as they bay
    When hunting in full moon, the spring to rouse;

Nor as in summer, soft: the insistent rain
    Hisses the woe of my void life to me;
And the winds jibe me for my anguish vain,
    Sibilant, like waters of the washing sea.



Thomas MacDonagh

Poem Theme: September

Thomas MacDonagh's other poems:
  1. With Only This for Likeness, Only These Words
  2. To James Clarence Mangan
  3. In Dread
  4. Isn't It Pleasant for the Little Birds
  5. Of the Man of My First Play


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Edward Dowden In September ("SPRING scarce had greener fields to show than these")
  • Amy Levy In September ("The sky is silver-grey; the long")

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