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Poem by Thomas Hood


Autumn (The Autumn is old)


The Autumn is old,
The sere leaves are flying;--
He hath gather'd up gold,
And now he is dying;--
Old Age, begin sighing!

The vintage is ripe,
The harvest is heaping;--
But some that have sow'd
Have no riches for reaping;--
Poor wretch, fall a-weeping!

The year's in the wane,
There is nothing adorning,
The night has no eve,
And the day has no morning;--
Cold winter gives warning.

The rivers run chill,
The red sun is sinking,
And I am grown old,
And life is fast shrinking;
Here's enow for sad thinking!



Thomas Hood

Poem Theme: Autumn

Thomas Hood's other poems:
  1. The Boy at the Nore
  2. Stanzas (Is there a bitter pang for love removed)
  3. The Two Peacocks of Bedfont
  4. Written in Keats' УEndymionФ
  5. Sonnet for the 14th of February


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