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66
OUR FALLEN LEAVES.
Life has its Springs and its Autumns; and oft, as new fancies are budding,Softly the dead ones we hear, rustling beneath our feet.
See, all around us they lie, these leaves of the Past that are fallen;
Can it be they that appeared lately so green and so fresh?
Faces we see with indifference, which once with emotion we followed;
Voices fall on the ear, reaching no longer the heart;
Names that a magic possessed, are endowed with that magic no longer;
Ties that we cherished are cut, dreams that we cherished are gone!
Places that Fancy had hallowed, we find, after years, to be common;
If as we pass them we sigh, 'tis for our youth that has fled.
These are the leaves of the past, which, marching through life ever onwards,
Shaded by leaves that are green, bravely we tread under foot.
Yet it may happen at times, if we stoop, and a leaf that is withered
Gently take up in the hand, those that are green are forgot.
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