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As the resident poet at EcoHealth, my verse finds inspiration these days in the spectre of future pandemics. For my dissertation at LMU's Amerika-Institut, I'm anatomizing the poetics of E. A. Robinson's sonnets. I also teach English at M√ľnchner Volkshochschule and lead the Amerikahaus Literary Circle.

20150425

The Pity of the Leaves

by Edwin Arlington Robinson

Vengeful, across the cold November moors,

Loud with ancestral shame there came the bleak
Sad wind that shrieked, and answered with a shriek,
Reverberant through lonely corridors.
The old man heard it; and he heard, perforce,
Words of the past that shook the old man's cheek
Like dead, remembered footsteps on old floors.

And then there were the leaves that plagued him so!

The brown, thin leaves that on the stones outside
Skipped with a freezing whisper.  Now and then
They stopped, and stayed therejust to let him know
How dead they were; but if the old man cried,
They fluttered off like withered souls of men.

Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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