greatpoetsThe Autumn House
From my window, facing South,
I watch the leaf-light birds
That lately shared my roof
Set off without farewells
Journeying to the sun.
The branch hangs from a sky
That soon will shelter none
The widowed light puts on
Its threadbare shroud
I wait alone
In a house where none
Prepare for what may come
Across the water's hill
Where all the clocks are still
Nobody heeds my talk
And down the draughty
Passage-way nobody walks.
- George M. Brady
