Autumn Within
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
1807 to 1882
It is autumn; not without,
But within me is the cold.
Youth and spring are all about;
It is I that have grown old.
Birds are darting through the air,
Singing, building without rest;
Life is stirring everywhere,
Save within my lonely breast.
There is silence: the dead leaves
Fall and rustle and are still;
Beats no flail upon the sheaves
Comes no murmur from the mill.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's Autumn Within
I am busy working to bring Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's "Autumn Within" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
In the meantime, I invite you to explore the poem's themes, structure, and meaning. You can also check out the gallery for other musical arrangements or learn more about Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's life and contributions to literature.
Check back soon to experience how "Autumn Within" transforms when verse meets melody—a unique journey that makes poetry accessible, engaging, and profoundly moving in new ways.
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