WINTER.

———

BY J. W. FORNEY.

———

The leaf hath fallen!

E’en the withered leaf; and from the trees

Hath faded Nature’s robe of living green;

While, thro’ their naked boughs the wintry breeze,

Makes mournful music o’er the vanished scene—

The funeral requiem of those blushing flowers,

That bloomed and flaunted in the sunny air,

When the coy spring-time and her laughing hours,

The graceful monarchs of the season were.

The song is hushed!

And gone those warblers for a softer clime,

Whose morning welcome, and whose evening hymn

Made the gay summer but a trysting time,

And prayerful music poured aloft to Him!

No more they usher, with their mellow song,

The bright-eyed morning beaming through the cloud—

Where erst they met, in bright melodious throng,

Now roars the tempest in its wrath aloud.

The brook is frozen!

The babbling streamlet sparkles now no more

In the full glory of the sun’s warm beam;

The ice-king’s sceptre has been wafted o’er,

And sleep is brooding on the modest stream.

There are no flowers on its frozen side—

The sun shines only with a cheerless glance:

Still is its melody; and the valley’s pride,

Is calm as Beauty in a pleasing trance.

Lancaster, Pa. January, 1841.