OCTOBER. BY H. W. ROCKWELL.
Reading edition
'The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrub the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow, through all the gloomy day.'
Bryant.
I.
Where is the summer-light?—alas! It shines upon the land no more; No leaf-shade spots the withered grass, No fountain sings upon the shore; Gone are the days of golden June, Gone her sweet dews at night-fall cool, And the young leaves that knew her moon, Float sere and reddened in the pool.
II.
No spice-fed airs are here, to stir The flowers which they so lately fanned, No murmur but the wind-smote fir, Or ground-birds chirping on the sand; Too meekly brief was summer's light, Too fleetly sweet the tints she wore, Yet they are gone, and dusky night, And autumn, sadden hill and shore!
III.
I heard a bird in yonder glen— It sang with all too gay a heart, For ere I sought the wild again, The cold had warned her to depart; Afar beyond the southern bound Where wind of autumn never grieves, She sings in some sweet isle, around Whose shore the soft blue ocean heaves.
IV.
No snow-charged tempest there shall chide The forest by the silvery deep: No wintry whirlwind there shall ride, To break the sweet sea's summer sleep; Though cold and brief the northern day, The noon-tide lingers longest there, Merry with winds that fling the spray High in the fresh, brisk ocean air.
V.
Leave me and the cold north forgot, While autumn paints the woods again, For sweeter than a fresher spot, Is the sad beauty of the glen! I'll gaze far through the thickening night While the leaves rustle o'er my head, Muse on the days which once were bright— Feel that they all are cold and dead!