Here you will find the Poem Autumn of poet Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy
Autumn 'tis! Our garden stands Flowerless and bare, Dizzy whirling yellow leaves Fill the wind swept air. Yet the distant mountain ash In the vale below, With our favorite berries red Now begins to glow. While with rapture and with pain Throbbing in my breast, Pressing hot thy hands in mine, Silent, unexpressed-- Fondly gazing in thine eyes, Through my tears I see-- That I can never tell thee How dear thou art to me!
