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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538022" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>My Autumn Walk</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">ON woodlands ruddy with autumn<br>The amber sunshine lies;<br>I look on the beauty round me,<br>And tears come into my eyes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For the wind that sweeps the meadows <br>Blows out of the far Southwest,<br>Where our gallant men are fighting,<br>And the gallant dead are at rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The golden-rod is leaning,<br>And the purple aster waves, <br>In a breeze from the land of battles,<br>A breath from the land of graves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Full fast the leaves are dropping<br>Before that wandering breath;<br>As fast, on the field of battle, <br>Our brethren fall in death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beautiful over my pathway<br>The forest spoils are shed;<br>They are spotting the grassy hillocks<br>With purple and gold and red. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beautiful is the death-sleep<br>Of those who bravely fight<br>In their country’s holy quarrel,<br>And perish for the Right.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But who shall comfort the living, <br>The light of whose homes is gone:<br>The bride that, early widowed,<br>Lives broken-hearted on;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The matron whose sons are lying<br>In graves on a distant shore; <br>The maiden, whose promised husband<br>Comes back from the war no more?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I look on the peaceful dwellings<br>Whose windows glimmer in sight,<br>With croft and garden and orchard, <br>That bask in the mellow light;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I know that, when our couriers<br>With news of victory come,<br>They will bring a bitter message<br>Of hopeless grief to some. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Again I turn to the woodlands,<br>And shudder as I see<br>The mock-grape’s blood-red banner<br>Hung out on the cedar-tree;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I think of days of slaughter, <br>And the night-sky red with flames,<br>On the Chattahoochee’s meadows,<br>And the wasted banks of the James.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, for the fresh spring-season,<br>When the groves are in their prime, <br>And far away in the future<br>Is the frosty autumn-time!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, for that better season,<br>When the pride of the foe shall yield,<br>And the hosts of God and Freedom <br>March back from the well-won field;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the matron shall clasp her first-born<br>With tears of joy and pride;<br>And the scarred and war-worn lover<br>Shall claim his promised bride! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The leaves are swept from the branches;<br>But the living buds are there,<br>With folded flower and foliage,<br>To sprout in a kinder air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Cullen+Bryant">William Cullen Bryant</a><div class=q>
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<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=538022" data-title="My Autumn Walk de William Cullen Bryant" data-description="ON woodlands ruddy with autumn
The amber sunshine lies;
I look on the beauty round me,
And tears come into my eyes.

For the wind that sweeps the meadows 
Blows out of the far Southwest,
Where our gallant men are fighting,
And the gallant dead are..."></div>
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