Long sobbing winds,
The violins
Of autumns drone,
Wounding my heart
With languorous smart
In monotone.

Choking and pale,
When on the gale
The hour sounds deep,
I call to mind
Dead years behind.
And I weep.

And I, going.
Borne by blowing
Winds and grief,
Flutter, here--there,
As on the air
The dying leaf.

Autumn Sun

By: Paul Verlaine

Metaphors and Similies

Long sobbing winds,

Borne by blowing
Winds and grief,
Flutter, here--there,
As on the air

Personification

Long sobbing winds,

The hour sounds deep,

Dead years behind.

Assonance, Alliteration, Consonance

Borne by blowing