Dirge in Woods
A wind sways the pines,
And below
Not a breath of wild air;
Still as the mosses that glow
On the flooring and over the lines
Of the roots here and there.
The pine-tree drops its dead;
They are quiet, as under the sea.
Overhead, overhead
Rushes life in a race,
As the clouds the clouds chase;
And we go,
And we drop like the fruits of the tree,
Even we,
Even so.
Poem by
George Meredith
Biography |
Poems
| Best Poems | Short Poems
| Quotes
|
Email Poem |
More Poems by George Meredith
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on Dirge in Woods
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Dirge in Woods here.
Commenting turned off, sorry.