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76
AUTUMN.
From the old village tow'r the fleet swallows their flight
Have sped on the wings of the morn;
And the plant , that the traveller sees with delight,
Hangs its globes on the red-berried thorn.
Have sped on the wings of the morn;
And the plant , that the traveller sees with delight,
Hangs its globes on the red-berried thorn.
'Tis pleasant to gaze, while the sun, breaking slow
Thro' the vapours his glories that veil,
Clothes in mantle of gold the hill's many-ting'd brow,
And flings a broad shade o'er the dale:—
Thro' the vapours his glories that veil,
Clothes in mantle of gold the hill's many-ting'd brow,
And flings a broad shade o'er the dale:—
'Tis pleasant amid the deep beech-wood to stray,
To the sound of the quick-rustling leaves;
Where gemm'd with the dew-drops of morn, on the spray
The nice spider his gossamer weaves:—
To the sound of the quick-rustling leaves;
77
The nice spider his gossamer weaves:—
And 'tis pleasant to wander abroad, while no spot
Stains the robe of the light-streaming air,
Nor a sound breaks its rest, save the robin's brisk note,
Or the sheep-bell that tinkles from far.
Stains the robe of the light-streaming air,
Nor a sound breaks its rest, save the robin's brisk note,
Or the sheep-bell that tinkles from far.
Yet I love thee not, Autumn: tho' clear be thy sky,
And gorgeous thy forests appear,
They sadly hold out to the provident eye
The death of the swift-waning year.
And gorgeous thy forests appear,
They sadly hold out to the provident eye
The death of the swift-waning year.
O return thou best season; return, lovely time;
When each green bud and blossom, that swells,
Fills the heart with delight at the soft-smiling prime,
And the glories of summer foretells.
When each green bud and blossom, that swells,
Fills the heart with delight at the soft-smiling prime,
And the glories of summer foretells.
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