The poem
Why should I be the first to fall Of all the leaves on this old tree? Though sadly soon I know that all Will lose their hold and follow me. While my birth-brothers bravely blow, Why should I be first to go?
Why should I be the last to cling Of all the leaves on this bleak bough? I've fluttered since the fire of Spring And I am worn and withered now. I would escape the Winter gale And sleep soft-silvered by a snail.
When swoop the legions of the snow To pitch their tents in roaring weather We fallen leaves will lie below And rot rejoicingly together; And from our rich and dark decay Will laugh our brothers of the May.
Inspiration
This poem has really encouraged me to emphasize my creativeness in English literature. Really loved this poem since the first time I heard it to till now.. :D