Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/193
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AUTUMNAL DECAY.
175
The clustering berries drop their crimson beads
Descending. On the dark laburnum's sides,
Mix pods of lighter green among the leaves,
Taper, and springless, hastening to decay:
And on the wintry honeysuckle's stalk
The succulent berries hang. The robin sits
Upon a mossy gateway, singing clear
A requiem to the glory of the woods.
And, when the breeze awakes, a frequent shower
Of withered leaves bestrews the weedy paths,
Or from the branches of the willow whirl,
With rustling sound, upon the turbid stream.
Descending. On the dark laburnum's sides,
Mix pods of lighter green among the leaves,
Taper, and springless, hastening to decay:
And on the wintry honeysuckle's stalk
The succulent berries hang. The robin sits
Upon a mossy gateway, singing clear
A requiem to the glory of the woods.
And, when the breeze awakes, a frequent shower
Of withered leaves bestrews the weedy paths,
Or from the branches of the willow whirl,
With rustling sound, upon the turbid stream.
Autumnal Decay.
Thou desolate and dying year!
Emblem of transitory man,
Whose wearisome and wild career,
Like thine, is bounded to a span;
It seems but as a little day
Since Nature smiled upon thy birth,
And spring came forth in fair array,
To dance upon the joyous earth.
Emblem of transitory man,
Whose wearisome and wild career,
Like thine, is bounded to a span;
It seems but as a little day
Since Nature smiled upon thy birth,
And spring came forth in fair array,
To dance upon the joyous earth.
Sad alteration!—Now how lone,
How verdureless is Nature's breast;
Where ruin makes his empire known,
In autumn's yellow vesture drest:
The sprightly bird, whose carol sweet
Broke on the breath of early day—
The summer flowers she loved to greet—
The bird—the flowers—oh, where are they?
How verdureless is Nature's breast;
Where ruin makes his empire known,
In autumn's yellow vesture drest:
The sprightly bird, whose carol sweet
Broke on the breath of early day—
The summer flowers she loved to greet—
The bird—the flowers—oh, where are they?
Thou desolate and dying year!
Yet lovely in thy lifelessness,
As beauty stretched upon the bier
In death's clay-cold and dark caress;
There's loveliness in thy decay,
Which breathes, which lingers round thee still,
Like memory's mild and cheering ray
Beaming upon the night of ill.
Yet lovely in thy lifelessness,
As beauty stretched upon the bier
In death's clay-cold and dark caress;
There's loveliness in thy decay,
Which breathes, which lingers round thee still,
Like memory's mild and cheering ray
Beaming upon the night of ill.
Yet—yet the radiance is not gone
Which sheds a richness o'er the scene,
Which smiles upon the golden dawn
When skies were brilliant and serene—
Which sheds a richness o'er the scene,
Which smiles upon the golden dawn
When skies were brilliant and serene—