Poems, by Robert Louis Stevenson, hitherto unpublished/In autumn when the woods are red
IN AUTUMN WHEN THE WOODS ARE RED—1875
The romantic attachment which runs through so much of his verse in the early seventies was not much more than a sentimental memory for Stevenson, when, in 1875, in the company of Walter Simpson he was spending some weeks in France. While early joys are referred to as gone, "A touch of April not yet dead," followed by the picture of Cupid hunting, shows Stevenson's thoughts turning towards past days in Edinburgh. Yet less on the personal side, than as an attempt at French forms of verse, is this poem deserving of special comment. Those days in France, when Stevenson first came into close contact with French authors, ancient and modern, left their valuable impress on his style. English and Scotch literature he already knew well, and he had sat at the feet of the German masters, Goethe and Heine; but not until the date of this poem was his interest marked in French form, and to this continuing interest and expanding study is doubtless due, to no small extent, Stevenson's stylistic development.
IN AUTUMN WHEN THE WOODS ARE RED
In autumn when the woods are red
And skies are gray and clear,
The sportsmen seek the wild fowls' bed
Or follow down the deer;
And Cupid hunts by haugh and head,
By riverside and mere.
I walk, not seeing where I tread
And keep my heart with fear.
Sir, have an eye, on where you tread
And keep your heart with fear,
For something lingers here;
A touch of April not yet dead,
In Autumn when the woods are red
And skies are gray and clear.