Here you will find the Poem Autumn. of poet Robert Crawford
I in the autumn of my days Stand by a place of tears, And hear the unborn children weep Within the unborn years; And feel how all God's sorrow must Go wailing on until Man's autumn, too, is past, and he May winter from all ill. * * * * * A pale light in the fading wood, The sob of dying leaves ? A lorn bird lying in the dusk Of life that wakes and grieves! O mournful heart whose love is dust, In the decaying wood Death's deepening mystery will cling Round thee like solitude.
