 | The American common-place book of poetry |  |
336
Autumn. —Peabody.
The dying year! the dying year!
The heaven is clear and mild;
And withering all the fields appear
Where once the verdure smiled.
The heaven is clear and mild;
And withering all the fields appear
Where once the verdure smiled.
The summer ends its short career;
The zephyr breathes farewell;
And now upon the closing year
The yellow glories dwell.
The zephyr breathes farewell;
And now upon the closing year
The yellow glories dwell.
The radiant clouds float slow above
The lake's transparent breast;
In splendid foliage all the grove
Is fancifully dressed.
The lake's transparent breast;
In splendid foliage all the grove
Is fancifully dressed.
On many a tree the autumn throws
Its brilliant robes of red;
As sickness lights the cheeks of those
It hastens to the dead.
Its brilliant robes of red;
As sickness lights the cheeks of those
It hastens to the dead.
That tinge is flattering and bright,
But tells of death like this;
And they, that see its gathering light,
Their lingering hopes dismiss.
But tells of death like this;
And they, that see its gathering light,
Their lingering hopes dismiss.
O, thus serene, and free from fear,
Shall be our last repose;
Thus, like the sabbath of the year,
Our latest evening close.
Shall be our last repose;
Thus, like the sabbath of the year,
Our latest evening close.
| The American common-place book of poetry | |