26.12.2010, 12:23
AUTUMN.
The softest shadows mantle o'er his form,
And the curved sickle in his grasp appears,
Glooming and brightening ; while a wreath of ears
Circles his sallow brow, which th' angry storm
Gusts down at intervals ; about him stray
The volant sweets o' the trailing mignonette,
And odours vague, that haunt the year's decay ;
The crush of leaves is heard beneath his feet,
Mixt, as he onward goes, with softer sound.
As tho' his heel were sinking into snows :
Full soon a sadder landscape opens round.
With, here and there, a latter-flowering rose,
Child of the Summer hours, though blooming here
Far down the vista of the fading year.
The softest shadows mantle o'er his form,
And the curved sickle in his grasp appears,
Glooming and brightening ; while a wreath of ears
Circles his sallow brow, which th' angry storm
Gusts down at intervals ; about him stray
The volant sweets o' the trailing mignonette,
And odours vague, that haunt the year's decay ;
The crush of leaves is heard beneath his feet,
Mixt, as he onward goes, with softer sound.
As tho' his heel were sinking into snows :
Full soon a sadder landscape opens round.
With, here and there, a latter-flowering rose,
Child of the Summer hours, though blooming here
Far down the vista of the fading year.