We All Do Perish Like the Leaf.
Reading edition
One rosy cloud lay cradled In the chambers of the sky; Rock'd gently by the autumn winds, As they came sighing by; Touching, oh, so lightly, Each leaf on ev'ry tree, Yet wafting them in tinted show'rs, O'er mountain, hill, and lee. For autumn's chilling finger Has touch'd them, by decay; And now the slightest zephyr's wing Bears their frail form away: And strews them o'er the barren glebe, In withered heaps to lie The sport of many a wintry storm, As it comes surging by. So man, with earthly honor, Stands proudly forth, to-day,-- To-morrow Death's untimely frost His glory sweeps away. And down in Death's dark chambers, With folded hands he lies; The things of earth excluded Forever from his eyes.