The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival With a biographical sketch |
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XI. The Seasons.
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The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | ||
XI. The Seasons.
“Der Herbst beginnt.”—
Schulz.
Schulz.
The Spring is gone,
And, one by one,
The blossoms are withered and faded:
The Summer, too,
Is almost through,
And thinner the fountain is shaded.
Come, Autumn, come!
Thou lead'st me home:
The birds of the Summer are flying.
Thou wilt not stay,
But steal'st away,
And Winter behind thee is sighing.
And, one by one,
The blossoms are withered and faded:
The Summer, too,
Is almost through,
And thinner the fountain is shaded.
Come, Autumn, come!
Thou lead'st me home:
The birds of the Summer are flying.
Thou wilt not stay,
But steal'st away,
And Winter behind thee is sighing.
The stars are bright,
This winter night:
The lake is merrily ringing.
The skater there,
To the frosty air,
His open bosom is flinging.
But Spring again
Shall wake the plain,
And showers the blossoms sprinkle.
As through the vale
Light blows the gale,
The lake shall curl and crinkle.
This winter night:
The lake is merrily ringing.
The skater there,
To the frosty air,
His open bosom is flinging.
353
Shall wake the plain,
And showers the blossoms sprinkle.
As through the vale
Light blows the gale,
The lake shall curl and crinkle.
And Summer, thou,
With dripping brow,
Shalt plunge in the shady river,
When golden day
Is on his way,
And field and meadow quiver.
But, Autumn, come!
I welcome home
Fallen leaves and faded flowers.
Thy sky is blue,
And soft as dew
Thy still and gentle hours.
With dripping brow,
Shalt plunge in the shady river,
When golden day
Is on his way,
And field and meadow quiver.
But, Autumn, come!
I welcome home
Fallen leaves and faded flowers.
Thy sky is blue,
And soft as dew
Thy still and gentle hours.
The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | ||