University of Virginia Library

AN AUTUMN CONCEIT IN GREENWICH PARK.

Sad wind, why moan
The sere leaf's fall!
Goes it alone,
Or with all nobler things, alas! but shares the fate of all!
Sad sobber through September,
Perchance thou dost remember
The bursting of that rustling leaf in April's tearful time,
With what a gladness first
Its downy cell it burst,
And gazed on all the sweet Spring sees when near its leafy prime;
With what a glad surprise
It oped its infant eyes,
And first, with mingled joy and awe, peered out on all around;
From all that met its sight
Took ever new delight,
Dumb wonder from each common sight—dumb wonder from each sound;
Sad sigher through the sky,
Perchance, too, thou wert nigh,
What time its quiet rest it took amongst the light of June;
Oft saw'st it slumbering, where,
Soft couched on golden air,
Out-tired with play and merriment, it nestled 'mid the noon;
Or when thy gentle song
Was heard the boughs along,
How from its dreaming noontide rest, you saw it quivering break;
Saw to thy singing, how
Upon the brown-barked bough,
With many a mate in glossy green, the dance and song 'twould wake;
Yet thou forgettest not
Perchance, sad wailer, what
Unuttered loveliness was its, when summer skies were blue;
In what a dazzling green
Its veinèd form was seen,
When sparkling through the morning air, bejewelled all with dew;
How in the suns of June,
It glistened through the noon,
While footing it upon the boughs to thy low melody,
While wanderers through the wood,
Checking their footsteps, stood,
And seldom without pleasant note could pass its beauty by.
Thy wings were winnowing there
The pallid autumn air,
What time with darkening days, alas! the Summer's self grew old;
Thou saw'st its green that made
The forest lovely, fade,
Yet deepen into gorgeous hues that shamed the sunshine's gold;
How, even in decay,
Did beauty lingering stay
About the aged form, so well it loved to deck when young!
Thou saw'st it still below
A golden glory throw
The shadowed trunks, the mossy roots, and tangled weeds among.
Perchance, too, day by day.
Thou saw'st it wear away,
Fast shrivelling in the early frosts, and withering to its grave;
Perchance, if thou couldst tell,
Within thy sight it fell,
Whilst thou couldst only moan and sob, all impotent to save.
It may be, now there throng
Thy memory along,
Sad thoughts of all its spring's sweet youth, of all its summer's time;
Well may'st thou for its fall
Now wail, remembering all
The beauty of its first young days, the glory of its prime!
And yet why moan
The sere leaf's fall?
Goes it alone,
Or with all nobler things, alas! but shares the fate of all!