The first sorrow of autumn <br />Is the slow goodbye <br />Of the garden who stands so long in the evening- <br />A brown poppy head, <br />The stalk of a lily, <br />And still cannot go. <br /> <br />The second sorrow <br />Is the empty feet <br />Of a pheasant who hangs from a hook with his brothers. <br />The woodland of gold <br />Is folded in feathers <br />With its head in a bag. <br /> <br />And the third sorrow <br />Is the slow goodbye <br />Of the sun who has gathered the birds and who gathers <br />The minutes of evening, <br />The golden and holy <br />Ground of the picture. <br /> <br />The fourth sorrow <br />Is the pond gone black <br />Ruined and sunken the city of water- <br />The beetle's palace, <br />The catacombs <br />Of the dragonfly. <br /> <br />And the fifth sorrow <br />Is the slow goodbye <br />Of the woodland that quietly breaks up its camp. <br />One day it's gone. <br />It has only left litter- <br />Firewood, tentpoles. <br /> <br />And the sixth sorrow <br />Is the fox's sorrow <br />The joy of the huntsman, the joy of the hounds, <br />The hooves that pound <br />Till earth closes her ear <br />To the fox's prayer. <br /> <br />And the seventh sorrow <br />Is the slow goodbye <br />Of the face with its wrinkles that looks through the window <br />As the year packs up <br />Like a tatty fairground <br />That came for the children.<br /><br />Ted Hughes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-seven-sorrows/
