The Autumn Morning
See! the pale autumn dawnIs faint, upon the lawn
That lies in powdered white
Of hoar-frost dight
And now from tree to tree
The ghostly mist we see
Hung like a silver pall
To hallow all.
It wreathes the burdened air
So strangely everywhere
That I could almost fear
This silence drear
Where no one song-bird sings
And dream that wizard things
Mighty for hate or love
Were close above.
White as the fog and fair
Drifting through the middle air
In magic dances dread
Over my head.
Yet these should know me too
Lover and bondman true,
One that has honoured well
The mystic spell
Of earth's most solemn hours
Wherein the ancient powers
Of dryad, elf, or faun
Or leprechaun
Oft have their faces shown
To me that walked alone
Seashore or haunted fen
Or mountain glen
Wherefore I will not fear
To walk the woodlands sere
Into this autumn day
Far, far away.
~C.S. Lewis, Spirits in Bondage: A Cycle of Lyrics (published 1919 under the pseudonym of Clive Hamilton).
posted by Arevanye | permalink for this post |
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2 Comment(s):
Ok, so he was pretty young when he wrote this. ;-)
I like the images this poem evokes, however clumsy some of the cadences may feel.
Coincidentally, I have posted "Autumn", with a much more complex metre on the John Clare blog today.
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