POEM
Autumn
A touch of cold in the Autumn night—
I walked abroad,
And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge
Like a red-faced farmer.
I did not stop to speak, but nodded,
And round about were the wistful stars
With white faces like town children.
Though not as prolific as several of his contemporaries, T. E. Hulme's influence in shaping . . . MORE »
