Upon the woods at midnight broke the dread <br />Cavalry of the winds. The fell hosts tore <br />Through the embattled boughs with an uproar <br />Like spume of dragons roused from ocean-bed. <br />Then through the fury sounded overhead <br />The hissing of invisible blades that shore <br />Ten thousand leaves: stark on the woodland floor <br />Oncoming dawn revealed them piled red. <br /> <br />Streams the new day through boughs whose leafy pride <br />Scarce ray of sun could pierce or starlight keen: <br />Behold Heaven's glory through the shattered screen! <br />Red piled leaves, your leavening dust shall bide, <br />The rare mould of that Spring for which you died, <br />That unimaginable world of green.<br /><br />Thomas Sharp<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/autumn-woods-1918/
