Autumn

Autumn

Autumn! I love thy tinted looks,
Thy faded leaves, and chilling brooks,

And variegated flowers;

Thy cooling winds and wither'd grass,
Precurser of the stormy glast,

And fluctuating showers.

Thy cloudy days and chilling nights,
And ripen'd fruits, and pleasant sights,

All tell in language plain,

That thou whose frigid looks art seen
In blighted trees, with yellow, green,

Hath called on us again.

Thy varied hills and vernal plains,
Wide fields are stack'd with ripen'd grain,

And Indian summer's sun;

The crimson shadows of the sky,
And transient clouds, rush swiftly by,

And tell us summer's gone.

The streamlet's mournful dirge is heard,
The wild winds blow, and every bird

Is silent through the land;

The varying foliage is seen,
Autumnal glory reign supreme,

Spread by Almighty hand.

Autumn! I love thy cloudd sky,
Thy many storms that pass us by—

Yes, e'n thy chilling rain—

As ancient time, who steals aaway
Our years, and makes our whiskers grey,

Permits us to remain.

Thy annual visit and decay
Teach us a lesson, that we may,

By learning well prepare

To live consistent here below,
And be prepared, when called to go,

The cmmon fate to share.

B. Clark, Sen.

1:16, p. 4

11.5.1859