 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
October
All day, amidst the forests' splendor bright,Spread o'er the landscape far as eye could see,
We journeyed on; and every vale and height
Transfigured in the glory seemed to be.
What colors of the earth, or e'en the sky,
Can paint the hues, which decked each hill and plain;
That, with their richness, tired the gazing eye?
What canvass can those wondrous tints retain?
Yet, as the seasons of the year return,
Again o'er all the land will they be cast;
Again each height and plain with glory burn,
And shall as long as Nature's self shall last;
Crowning with beauty e'en her latest day,
When all that we behold shall pass away!
Poem No. 30; October 1866
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |