The leaves that in the lonely walks were spread, <br />Starting from off the ground beneath the tread, <br />Coursed o'er the garden-plain; <br />Thus, sometimes, 'mid the soul's deep sorrowings, <br />Our soul a moment mounts on wounded wings, <br />Then, swiftly, falls again.<br /><br />Victor Marie Hugo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-autumnal-simile/
