This is the literary weblog of Jeffrey W. Hull, M.D., a pediatrician. It is intended mainly as a place to maintain a collection of poetry created for the enjoyment of a few friends and as an archive for my family. All material is protected by US copyright.

Jeffrey Hull

Friday, November 04, 2005


The Piper at the gates of dawn
   Whose pipes sing far and high
With plaintive song for summers gone–
   Regards an empty sky.

Bright feathers flew for distant lands,
   But where did not confide;
The lonely meadow understands
   That here she must abide.

The trees have long since shed their gloves,
   Gaunt fingers now revealed;
The wild wind whispers of her loves
   To taunt the barren field.

The patient land awaits the frost
   Foretelling winter snows;
The meadow mourns her flowers lost,
   And soon will dreamless doze.

The Piper at the gates of dawn
   Whose pipes sing soft for me
Plays low and long for summers gone
   In wistful minor key.

© 2005 Jeffrey Hull


Van Morrison?
This poem really sings jeff!
Kennethe Grahame (sp?), I think? Ther Wind in the Willows?

Technically, I'd leave out ('scuse the pun) the gloves/gaunt fingers metaphor. Oh, it's a very nice one, but it distracts from the focus of the poem, which is repeatedly on the lovelorn land and the patient counsel of seasonal wisdom. There's nothing/no one for those gaunt fingers to point to as it is.

Perhaps if you coupled the nude limbs with their absence of summer song birds... know me. I mostly critique where I feel there's real strength being weakened somehow.

Regarding empty sky:

scroll down to where it promises to play music. Recapture youthful wanderlust.

Thanks for the comments, gentlemen. Always appreciated. Yes, Oz, Piper at the Gates of Dawn is a chapter title in Wind in the Willows, a favorite book of mine since childhood. Kenneth Grahame was the author, and Ernest Shepard was the original illustrator.
I need to read more! Apparently one book a week is not enough. I mean, how deep do I have to go?

Van Morrisson uses the line in a song he recorded called,.........................Nuts! I forgot. Well, it's still a wonderful poem Jeff!


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