 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
AN AUTUMN THOUGHT.
Like the depths of the wood when October is cold,
By the sting of the frost turned to purple and gold,
Are the virtues of heart, sad and tender, that owe
All their beauty and brightness to sorrow and woe.
By the sting of the frost turned to purple and gold,
Are the virtues of heart, sad and tender, that owe
All their beauty and brightness to sorrow and woe.
Like the pine on the mountain unchanged by the frost,
When the beech-tree and maple their verdure have lost,
Is the heart of a friend that is steadfast and true
When the tears of misfortune our pathway bedew.
When the beech-tree and maple their verdure have lost,
Is the heart of a friend that is steadfast and true
When the tears of misfortune our pathway bedew.
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |