The Autumn
Go, sit upon the lofty hill,And turn your eyes around,Where waving woods and waters wildDo hymn an autumn sound.The summer sun is faint on them --The summer flowers depart --Sit still -- as all transform'd to stone,Except your musing heart.
How there you sat in summer-time,May yet be in your mind;And how you heard the green woods singBeneath the freshening wind.Though the same wind now blows around,You would its blast recall;For every breath that stirs the trees,Doth cause a leaf to fall.
Oh! like that wind, is all the mirthThat flesh and dust impart:We cannot bear its visitings,When change is on the heart.Gay words and jests may make us smile,When Sorrow is asleep;But other things must make us smile,When Sorrow bids us weep!
The dearest hands that clasp our hands, --Their presence may be o'er;The dearest voice that meets our ear,That tone may come no more!Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,Which once refresh'd our mind,Shall come -- as, on those sighing woods,The chilling autumn wind.
Hear not the wind -- view not the woods;Look out o'er vale and hill-In spring, the sky encircled them --The sky is round them still.Come autumn's scathe -- come winter's cold --Come change -- and human fate!Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,Can ne'er be desolate.
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