TWO ENGLISH POETS
THE AUTUMN WORLD
Our world is ruinous and falls about us
like the autumn world, whose leaves bewilder.
Where will the slipshod winds, down empty streets,
dishevelled, scatter us, to rot
under
som~
structure of concrete and strong iron?
In autumn mazery so much entangled,
confused with print and dreams our hasty
lives driven by huge winds will leave no trace
beyond the impermanent corrosion of leaves
choking stone fountains in deserted gardens,
and brimming quiet-circled winter ponds.
This century blown against the future's walls
by war and hunger has only oblivion,
in winter's weather stamped into the soil
like the driven leaves, the driven leaves.
D.
S. SAVAGE
35
