[Poems by Botta in] Memoirs of Anne Charlotte Lynch Botta written by her friends with selections from her correspondence and from her writings in prose and poetry |
INDIAN SUMMER |
[Poems by Botta in] Memoirs of Anne Charlotte Lynch Botta written by her friends | ||
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INDIAN SUMMER
O sweet, sad autumn of the waning year,Though in thy bowers the roses all lie dead,
And from thy woods the song of birds has fled,
And winter, stern and cold, is hovering near;
Yet from thy presence breathes a holy calm.
The fervid heats, the lightning storms, all past,
A tender light o'er earth and sky is cast,
And all thy solemn voices chant a psalm.
Oh, Indian Summer, autumn of the soul,
That no returning Spring shall visit more,
Though all thy rose-hued morning dreams are o'er,
And phantoms dread stand threat'ning at the goal,
Yet are these days dear as e'en Summer knew;
These Sibylline leaves of life, so precious, since so few.
[Poems by Botta in] Memoirs of Anne Charlotte Lynch Botta written by her friends | ||