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(From A Hymn of the Autumn Time)
THE AUTUMN time is with us!—Its approach | |
| Was heralded, not many days ago, | |
| By hazy skies, that veiled the brazen sun, | |
| And sea-like murmurs from the rustling corn, | |
| And low-voiced brooks that wandered drowsily | 5 |
| By purpling clusters of the juicy grape, | |
| Swinging upon the vine. And now, ’t is here! | |
| And what a change hath passed upon the face | |
| Of Nature, where the waving forest spreads, | |
| Then robed in deepest green! All through the night | 10 |
| The subtle frost hath plied its mystic art; | |
| And in the day the golden sun hath wrought | |
| True wonders; and the winds of morn and even | |
| Have touched with magic breath the changing leaves. | |
| And now, as wanders the dilating eye | 15 |
| Athwart the varied landscape, circling far, | |
| What gorgeousness, what blazonry, what pomp | |
| Of colors, bursts upon the ravished sight! | |
| Here, where the maple rears its yellow crest, | |
| A golden glory: yonder, where the oak | 20 |
| Stands monarch of the forest, and the ash | |
| Is girt with flame-like parasite, and broad | |
| The dogwood spreads beneath, a rolling field | |
| Of deepest crimson; and afar, where looms | |
| The gnarléd gum, a cloud of bloodiest red! | 25 |
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| Out in the woods of Autumn!—I have cast | |
| Aside the shackles of the town, that vex | |
| The fetterless soul, and come to hide myself, | |
| Miami! in thy venerable shades. | |
| Low on thy bank, where spreads the velvet moss, | 30 |
| My limbs recline. Beneath me, silver-bright, | |
| Glide the clear waters, with a plaintive moan | |
| For summer’s parting glories. High o’erhead, | |
| Seeking the sedgy lakes of the warm South, | |
| Sails tireless the unerring waterfowl, | 35 |
| Screaming among the cloud-racks. Oft from where, | |
| Erect on mossy trunk, the partridge stands, | |
| Bursts suddenly the whistle clear and loud, | |
| Far-echoing through the dim wood’s fretted aisles. | |
| Deep murmurs from the trees, bending with brown | 40 |
| And ripened mast, are interrupted now | |
| By sounds of dropping nuts; and warily | |
| The turkey from the thicket comes, and swift | |
| As flies an arrow darts the pheasant down, | |
| To batten on the autumn; and the air, | 45 |
| At times, is darkened by a sudden rush | |
| Of myriad wings, as the wild pigeon leads | |
| His squadrons to the banquet. Far away, | |
| Where the pawpaw its mellow fruitage yields, | |
| And thick, dark clusters of the wild grape hang, | 50 |
| The merry laugh of childhood, and the shout | |
| Of truant schoolboy, ring upon the air. * * * * * | |
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