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239
The Autumn Flowers
Though so fair, how soon they perish,
Few the days, the hours they stay!
Let us then their beauty cherish,
That so soon must pass away.
Few the days, the hours they stay!
Let us then their beauty cherish,
That so soon must pass away.
Winter waits with icy fingers
Soon to snatch them for his own;
But the Summer's day still lingers,
Though its months are past and gone.
Soon to snatch them for his own;
But the Summer's day still lingers,
Though its months are past and gone.
Every morn I look to see them
Fallen, shrivelled by the frost;
But each morn again restores me,
What at evening I had lost.
Fallen, shrivelled by the frost;
But each morn again restores me,
What at evening I had lost.
Trees and vines may change their verdure
Bright with every beauteous hue;
Yet their tints, how fair soever,
Shall not take my love from you.
Bright with every beauteous hue;
Yet their tints, how fair soever,
Shall not take my love from you.
They will see another season,
Spring will clothe them with its green;
But for you no spring returneth,
You will here no more be seen!
Spring will clothe them with its green;
But for you no spring returneth,
You will here no more be seen!
They, with the returning Autumn,
Bright, as now, will reappear;
And renew their fading glories
Still for many a coming year.
Bright, as now, will reappear;
And renew their fading glories
Still for many a coming year.
But within my soul your beauty
Shall, unfading, ever bloom;
There no frosts can blight, or wither,
There no night conceal with gloom.
Shall, unfading, ever bloom;
There no frosts can blight, or wither,
There no night conceal with gloom.
Every tint shall memory heighten,
Seen and loved in these short hours;
And, while memory's self continues,
Still shall bloom the Autumn Flowers.
Seen and loved in these short hours;
And, while memory's self continues,
Still shall bloom the Autumn Flowers.
Poem No. 708; October 1846
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