<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348242" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Immortal Autumn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I speak this poem now with grave and level voice <br>In praise of autumn, of the far-horn-winding fall. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I praise the flower-barren fields, the clouds, the tall <br>Unanswering branches where the wind makes sullen noise. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I praise the fall: it is the human season. <br>Now <br>No more the foreign sun does meddle at our earth, <br>Enforce the green and bring the fallow land to birth, <br>Nor winter yet weigh all with silence the pine bough, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But now in autumn with the black and outcast crows <br>Share we the spacious world: the whispering year is gone: <br>There is more room to live now: the once secret dawn <br>Comes late by daylight and the dark unguarded goes. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Between the mutinous brave burning of the leaves <br>And winter’s covering of our hearts with his deep snow <br>We are alone: there are no evening birds: we know <br>The naked moon: the tame stars circle at our eaves. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is the human season. On this sterile air <br>Do words outcarry breath: the sound goes on and on. <br>I hear a dead man’s cry from autumn long since gone. <br>I cry to you beyond upon this bitter air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Archibald+MacLeish">Archibald MacLeish</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348242" data-title="Immortal Autumn de Archibald MacLeish" data-description="I speak this poem now with grave and level voice In praise of autumn, of the far-horn-winding fall. I praise the flower-barren fields, the clouds, the tall Unanswering branches where the wind makes sullen noise. I praise the fall: it is the ..."></div> </div> </div>

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