 | Later Lays and Lyrics |  |
NOVEMBER.
I.
I hear the wail of the pitiless galeRound the couch of Beauty dying,
And deep in tone as the hoarse trombone
Are the calls of the wild geese flying:
While wanes the year how lone and and drear
Is the heart of the minstrel feeling,
For the voiceful blast that is hurrying past
Is the dirge of autumn pealing.
II.
Where field flowers sprang and bird-notes rangThe rude gale pipes a warning;
By vapors dun that hide the sun,
Festooned are the halls of morning.
Hail, rain and storm of colors warm
Have robbed the woodlands faded
That wore of late, in royal state,
Tints born of the rainbow braided.
43
III.
When day is o'er clouds deck no moreThe west with their golden fleeces,
And purple cloaks on the kingly oaks
Are torn by the gust in pieces.
A crimson glow on the sward below
Of late were the maples flinging,
But boughs are bare in the freezing air
On which the crows are swinging.
IV.
In what fair isle of tropical smileIs the bright Indian summer staying?
Will the nymph no more to this northern shore
Come soft with the south wind playing?
In vain we yearn for her dear return,
She visits the land no longer;
With the tribes of old from a clime so cold
She fled when the whites grew stronger.
| Later Lays and Lyrics | |