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II.

Now that the flowers have faded, 'tis the turn

Of leaves to flaunt in all their gayest dyes.

'Tis Autumn's gala : every dryad vies In decking out her bower. How richly burn

The gorgeous masses in the amber skies, Where to the West, the valley, with its stream, Is shut with woods that drink the setting beam !

There by its crimson foliage one descries The cherry, thrown out by the auburn shades

Of beech, with russet oak, and hoary sallow, And greenest ash, bearing its golden keys,

With here and there wych-elm of paler yellow.
How gracefully the waning season fades !
So Nature's

every
dress and

every

look can please.

III.

There is, I think, no sunshine like the sky

Of those mild, breezy, cloudless Autumn days,

Which tempt once more abroad the butterfly

To search for lingering flowers; when the green

sprays Of ash, now loosen'd, drop on him who strays Through woodland paths, while the light yellow leaves

Of fading trees come dancing down all ways, Like winged things; and oft the stream receives Full many a tiny voyager, whirld along

Amid its eddies ;—when the gossamer spreads

O'er the fresh clods her trembling silvery threads; And Robin, thinly screen’d, his sweetest song Pours forth, as if, triumphant o'er the scene, He said, Spring will return, and all again be green.

IV.

Spring, Summer, Autumn! Priestesses that hold

Alternate watch at Nature's altar! Deep

And full of mystery the course ye keep, In hidden sympathy. First, chastely cold,

Thou, Vestal Spring, most gently dost unfold

The oracles of Nature, and from sleep
Enchanted, bid her infant beauties

peep. Thou, Summer, dost inscribe in living gold

The fullness of each promise sibylline,

And mak’st in part the bright fruition thine, Murmuring soft music from her leafy fane:

Till Autumn's stores reveal in corn and wine

The meaning shut in every bud and grain.
Then comes the solemn pause which calls Spring

back again.

SONG.

'Twas not when early flowers were springing,

When skies were shcen,

And wheat was green,

And birds of love were singing,

That first I lov'd thee, or that thou

Didst first the tender claim allow.

For when the silent woods had faded

From green to yellow,
When fields were fallow,

And the chang'd skies o'ershaded,

My love might then have shared decay,

Or pass'd with summer's songs away.

'Twas winter: cares and clouds were round me,

Instead of flowers

And sunny hours,
When Love unguarded found me.
'Mid wintry scenes my passion grew,
And wintry cares have proved it true.

Dear are the hours of summer weather,

When all is bright,
And hearts are light,

And Love and Nature joy together.
But stars from night their lustre borrow,
And hearts are closer twined by sorrow,

LOVE, HOPE, AND FANCY.

“ SISTER! what

rosy

innocent

Is on thy bosom sleeping ?
Oh, who such lovely charge has lent

To Fancy's lonely keeping?"

Fancy was bending o'er the child,

Enwrapt in pensive musing. - Ah! is it thou ?” she said, and smiled,

A blush her charms suffusing.

“ But tell me, Hope, to this lone glen

What leads thy footstep daring ? What news from the abodes of men,

And whither art repairing ?"

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