 | Western windows and other poems |  |
221
FALLEN LEAVES.
I love to steal my way
Through the bright woods, when Autumn's work is done
And through the tree-tops all the dream-like day
Breathes the soft golden sun;
Through the bright woods, when Autumn's work is done
And through the tree-tops all the dream-like day
Breathes the soft golden sun;
When all is hush'd and still,
Only a few last leaves, fluttering slow
Down the warm air with ne'er a breeze's will—
A ghost of sound below;
Only a few last leaves, fluttering slow
Down the warm air with ne'er a breeze's will—
A ghost of sound below;
When naught of song is heard,
Save the jay laughing while all nature grieves,
Or the lone chirp of some forgotten bird
Among the fallen leaves.
Save the jay laughing while all nature grieves,
Or the lone chirp of some forgotten bird
Among the fallen leaves.
Around me every-where
Lie leaves that trembled green the Summer long,
Holding the rainbow's tears in sunny air,
And roof'd the Summer's song.
Lie leaves that trembled green the Summer long,
Holding the rainbow's tears in sunny air,
And roof'd the Summer's song.
222
Why shun my steps to tread
These silent hosts that every-where are strown,
As if my feet were walking 'mong the dead,
And I alive alone?
These silent hosts that every-where are strown,
As if my feet were walking 'mong the dead,
And I alive alone?
Hast no bright trees, O Past!
Through whose bare boughs, once green, the sunshine grieves?
No hopes that flutter'd in the autumnal blast,
No memories—Fallen Leaves?
Through whose bare boughs, once green, the sunshine grieves?
No hopes that flutter'd in the autumnal blast,
No memories—Fallen Leaves?
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