25.06.2007, 12:26
Fading Autumn
Th’ autumnal glories all have passed away;
The forest-leaves no more in hectic red
Give glowing tokens of their brief decay,
But scattered lie, or rustle at the tread,
Like whispered warnings from the mouldering dead;
The naked trees stretch out their arms all day,
And each bald hill-top lifts its reverend heard
As if for some new covering to pray.
Come, Winter, then, and spread thy robe of white
Above the desolation of this scene;
And when the sun with gems shall make it bright,
Or, when its snowy folds by midnight’s queen
Are silvered o’er with a serener light,
We’ll cease to sight for summer’s living green,
Th’ autumnal glories all have passed away;
The forest-leaves no more in hectic red
Give glowing tokens of their brief decay,
But scattered lie, or rustle at the tread,
Like whispered warnings from the mouldering dead;
The naked trees stretch out their arms all day,
And each bald hill-top lifts its reverend heard
As if for some new covering to pray.
Come, Winter, then, and spread thy robe of white
Above the desolation of this scene;
And when the sun with gems shall make it bright,
Or, when its snowy folds by midnight’s queen
Are silvered o’er with a serener light,
We’ll cease to sight for summer’s living green,