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Tuesday, November 16, 2010

AUTUMN, by T.E. Hulme


A TOUCH of cold in the Autumn
     I walked abroad,
And saw the ruddy moon lean over a
Like a red-faced farmer.
I did not stop to speak, but nodded,
And round about were wistful stars
With white faces like town children.


If you're looking for analysis of this and/or the others of Hulme's poetry collected by Ezra Pound in Ripostes, I assembled my thoughts here.  If they're helpful, or if you've got questions, please leave a comment.


  1. by T.E. Hulme

    "I lie alone in the little valley, in the noon heat,
    In the kingdom of little sounds.
    The hot air whispers lasciviously.
    The lark sings like the sound of distant
    Unattainable brooks."


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