 | Forest buds, from the woods of Maine |  |
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OUR AUTUMN.
The voice of Nature singing mournful dirges
For the departing year,
Like the loud swelling of the ocean's surges,
Falls sadly on my ear.
For the departing year,
Like the loud swelling of the ocean's surges,
Falls sadly on my ear.
October's smile the reddening hill is flushing
With transient loveliness,
And rosily the forest-trees are blushing
Beneath the frost's rude kiss.
With transient loveliness,
And rosily the forest-trees are blushing
Beneath the frost's rude kiss.
Blossoms and bees and song-birds have departed
From this, our northern land,
And dark November, chill and icy-hearted,
Asserts her stern command.
From this, our northern land,
And dark November, chill and icy-hearted,
Asserts her stern command.
In warmer climes, the smiling sun is shedding
A flood of summer beams,
And gorgeous flowers their brilliant leaves are spreading.
By ever-tinkling streams.
A flood of summer beams,
And gorgeous flowers their brilliant leaves are spreading.
By ever-tinkling streams.
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There sylvan groves are fadelessly revealing
A wilderness of bloom,
Loading the breeze, amid their shadows stealing,
With exquisite perfume.
A wilderness of bloom,
Loading the breeze, amid their shadows stealing,
With exquisite perfume.
Yet does our northern winter have a mission
To these warm hearts of ours,
Richer than all the blooming and fruition
Flushing the land of flowers.
To these warm hearts of ours,
Richer than all the blooming and fruition
Flushing the land of flowers.
It gathers up the gems of tender feeling
Forgot in summer's mirth,
And scatters them, with soft and bright revealing,
Around the social hearth.
Forgot in summer's mirth,
And scatters them, with soft and bright revealing,
Around the social hearth.
So, while without are winds and boisterous weather.
Yet, safe in home's repose,
Our northern hearts beat lovingly together,
Through all the time of snows.
Yet, safe in home's repose,
Our northern hearts beat lovingly together,
Through all the time of snows.
Therefore the voice of Nature, singing dirges
For the departing year,
Like the loud swelling of the ocean's surges,
Is music to my ear.
For the departing year,
Like the loud swelling of the ocean's surges,
Is music to my ear.
| Forest buds, from the woods of Maine | |