Walter De la Mare - Autumn

I have mentioned before that Brian Agg and I have a private shared interest in poetry. I was thinking of him today, now settled elsewhere, but not too far away, and within seconds, by chance, I was reading this poem, so I'm just going to post it, for no other reason that it is a lovely poem and it squeezes emotion from the coldest, stoniest heart. I know Brian will enjoy it if no one else does. That is enough reason alone. But as our long hot summer turns to a colder autumn, the sense of this poem feels stronger.

There is wind where the rose was;
Cold rain where sweet grass was;
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.

Nought gold where your hair was;
Nought warm where your hand was;
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.

Sad winds where your voice was;
Tears, tears where my heart was;
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.