1 min read
Слушать(AI)When the Leaves Fall
EN the leaves fall off the trees Everybody walks on them :
Once they had a time of ease High above, and every breeze Used to stay and talk to them.
Then they were so debonair As they fluttered up and down ;
Dancing in the sunny air,
Dancing without knowing there Was a gutter in the town.
Now they have no place at all !
All the home that they can find Is a gutter by a wall,
And the wind that waits their fall Is an apache of a wind.
James Stephens
James Stephens (9 February 1880[1] – 26 December 1950) was an Irish novelist and poet.
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
The Wind
The wind stood up and gave a shout He whistled on his fingers and Kicked the withered leaves about And thumped the branches with his hand And said that he'd kill and kill, And so he will and so he will
Hate
My enemy came nigh, And I Stared fiercely in his face My lips went writhing back in a grimace, And stern I watched him with a narrow eye
The Glass Of Beer
The lanky hank of a she in the inn over Nearly killed me for asking the loan of a glass of beer: May the devil grip the whey-faced slut by the And beat bad manners out of her skin for a year
Righteous Anger
HE lanky hank of a she in the inn over there Nearly killed me for asking the loan of a glass of beer: May the devil grip the whey-faced slut by the hair, And beat bad manners out of her skin for a year That parboiled imp, with the hardest jaw...