AN AUTUMN SONG.

Below the headland with its cedar-plumes A lapse of spacious water twinkles keen, An ever-shifting play of gleams and glooms And flashes of clear green. The sumac's garnet pennons where I lie Are mingled with the tansy's faded gold; Fleet hawks are screaming in the light-blue sky, And fleet airs rushing cold. The plump peach steals the dying rose's red; The yellow pippin ripens to its fall; The dusty grapes, to purple fulness fed, Droop from the garden-wall. And yet, where rainbow foliage crowns the swamp, I hear in dreams an April robin sing, And memory, amid this Autumn pomp, Strays with the ghost of Spring.