Now the Leaves Are Falling Fast
by W.H. Auden
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W.H. Auden uses the imagery of autumn to represent the rapid approach of old age and death. The fast-falling leaves symbolize the decay of the body, and the 'nurse's flowers' will not last, as the protective older generation ('nurses') has gone to the graves while new generations ('prams') roll mechanically on. He pictures the loneliness of modern life, surrounded by 'whispering neighbours', messengers of death, who pluck us from real delight until our working hands freeze on our knees. The dead follow rigidly in wooden coffins, and society hides behind 'false attitudes of love'. Life becomes a starving, leafless winter wood where greedy 'Trolls' fight for food, the nightingale of art falls dumb, and no angel comes to save humanity. Yet the poem ends with a cold glimmer of hope: ahead lies a majestic mountain whose 'lovely head' and white waterfall can bless and soothe travellers in their 'last distress', offering spiritual peace at the moment of death.
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W.H. Auden (1907–1973) won the Pulitzer Prize in 1948 for his book The Age of Anxiety. In this poem he uses the vivid imagery of autumn to reflect on old age, death and the anxieties of modern life.
The autumn metaphor of human decay
'Now the leaves are falling fast', the falling leaves symbolize the physical decay of the body and the rapid approach of old age. The 'nurse's flowers' (the smaller plants growing under larger trees) will not last forever, representing how the younger generation loses its support structures. The older, protective generation has already passed away, 'Nurses to the graves are gone', yet the cycle of life goes on mechanically as the 'prams go rolling on', carrying new generations into the same cycle.
The intrusive agents of death
Auden describes the loneliness and anxiety of modern life. We are surrounded by 'whispering neighbours', metaphorically the agents or messengers of death, on our left and right, who actively 'pluck us from the real delight' of life and isolate us from genuine joy. As old age strikes, our active, working hands must freeze, remaining lonely and inactive on our separate knees.
The rigidity of death and the starving wood
The poet presents a grim picture of mortality: 'Dead in hundreds at the back / Follow wooden in our track', hundreds of dead bodies lie rigid inside wooden coffins, following in our footsteps. Society is filled with people raising their arms stiffly to rebuke others, hiding behind 'false attitudes of love' that lack real warmth.
Life is compared to a desolate, leafless winter forest where human beings are starving physically and spiritually: 'Starving through the leafless wood'. In this dark world, 'Trolls' (wicked, greedy creatures from Scandinavian mythology, representing exploitative people) run scolding and fighting for food. The 'nightingale' of art, music and poetry has fallen completely dumb, and no saving 'angel' arrives to rescue humanity.
The glimmer of spiritual salvation
Despite the heavy pessimism, the poem ends with a magnificent, cold image of hope. Ahead of us the freezing, impossible journey leads toward a majestic mountain: 'Cold, impossible, ahead / Lists the mountain's lovely head'. The mountain's beautiful white waterfall has the power to bless and soothe travellers in their 'last distress' (the final moment of death), offering a spiritual escape and ultimate peace.