Song of Autumn

In this quietly devastating lyric, Clough transforms the dying of the season into something closer to grace. Written with the unassuming honesty that defined his brief career, "Song of Autumn" offers no dramatic mourning for summer's end. Instead, it finds a strange comfort in letting go, a willingness to release what cannot be held. The poem moves with the unhurried rhythm of falling leaves, its language plain but precise, building toward a conclusion that feels less like defeat than like the deep breath after a long holding. Clough, who devoted himself to Florence Nightingale's impossible work and who lost both parents young, understood something about necessary surrender. This is not a poem about loss but about what remains after loss: a clear, still attention to the world as it actually is. For readers weary of poetry that strains for intensity, here is a voice that achieves what it seeks through stillness.