Explore "Autumn Within" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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.