IN AUTUMN.

IN AUTUMN.
432.4

This delicate day speaks tenderly of death,
And the dismantled trees before her strew
Leaves that are lovely, too;
Scorch’d to a flame-like semblance by his breath,
Who glow’d for them the summer through.

A settled sadness haunts the lane where. by.
In April, primroses were new and sweet;
Yet, after dust and heat
Surpassing, what a freshness in the sky,
And mosses cool for loitering fest!

All is as though the mellow-tinted earth
Triffed with sorrow, that she must con-
fess When woods are flowerless;
Clasping a joy that shall outlive the dearth
Of garden, field, and hedge no less.

And, truly, as I think, a warm heart glows
Ev’n in death’s bosom, when she lays her hand
Tenderly on the land;
Whispering to blossoms pallid ‘neath her breath,
Words I may never understand,
-Pall Mall Gazette.