|
|
Classic and Contemporary Poetry
FABLE: 16, by ANTOINE VINCENT ARNAULT First Line: Thou poor leaf, so sear and frail Last Line: Glory's laurel, beauty's rose. | |||
THOU poor leaf, so sear and frail, Sport of every wanton gale, Whence and whither dost thou fly Through this bleak autumnal sky? -- On a noble oak I grew, Green and broad, and fair to view; But the monarch of the shade By the tempest low was laid. From that time, I wander o'er Wood and valley, hill and moor, Wheresoe'er the wind is blowing, Nothing caring, nothing knowing; Thither go I whither goes Glory's laurel, Beauty's rose. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LEAF by ANTOINE VINCENT ARNAULT THE SNAIL by ANTOINE VINCENT ARNAULT THE SEVEN ARTS by ROBERT FROST THAT KIND OF POEM' by KAREN SWENSON I AM BORNE ONWARD by SARA TEASDALE A RED, RED ROSE by ROBERT BURNS ESCAPE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A VALENTINE by LAURA ELIZABETH HOWE RICHARDS SPANISH SPRING by JEAN D. ARMSTRONG |
| |