Now the leaves are falling fast, Nurse's flowers will not last; Nurses to the graves are gone, And the prams go rolling on. Whisp'ring neighbours, left and right, Pluck us from the real delight; And the active hands must freeze Lonely on the sep'rate knees. Dead in hundreds at the back Follow wooden in our track, Arms raised stiffly to reprove In false attitudes of love. Starving through the leafless wood Trolls run scolding for their food; And the nightingale is dumb, And the angel will not come. Cold, impossible, ahead Lifts the mountain's lovely head Whose white waterfall could bless Travellers in their last distress.
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Authorship:
- by W. H. (Wystan Hugh) Auden (1907 - 1973) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by (Edward) Benjamin Britten (1913 - 1976), "Now the leaves are falling fast", op. 11 no. 2 (1937), published 1938 [ high voice and piano ], from On This Island, no. 2 [sung text checked 1 time]
- by John Reginald Lang-Hyde (1899 - 1990), as Lewis Hyde, "Now the leaves are falling fast", 1951 [ voice and piano ] [sung text not yet checked]
Researcher for this page: Virginia Knight
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 20
Word count: 106