Poetry Made Up About Autumn
By Me.
- Oil copper-colored Autumn comes
- To dull the beautious year!
- He lifts his brawny hand, and bids,
- Its glories disappear :
- The flowers all fade, the leaves turn brown,
- The birds forget to sing;
- Woodchucks retire into their holes,
- To snooze it out till spring.
-
- Sometimes the days are Sabbath-like,
- So quiet and so still;
- Sometimes the fragrant winds start up,
- And blow it out to kill;
- Sometimes the skies are blue and clear,
- Sometimes they wear a frown,
- So threatening that they seem would fain
- To tear the heavens down!
-
- A lonely orphan rose is left
- 'Mid beating storms to bloom,
- While sister roses all have gone
- Down to an early tomb!
- But soon that rose must fade and fall,
- And join the loved and the lost;
- Its cheeks shall ne'er be kissed by
- The cold lips of frost.
-
- Where are the birds! the little birds,
- That sang so sweet for me?
- Alas! they're flown, I know not where
- Perhaps they're on a spree!
- They will return I know they will
- The violet, too, and rose;
- I shall behold them all again,
- When they have changed their clo's.
-
- Farewell, dear flowers, my sweetest friends!
- The autumn now is here;
- I bid you all a blest adieu
- Until another year :
- And you, kind friend from you I part,
- But with a heavy sigh;
- 'Tis fate compels, give me your sleeve
- Old Summer's Coat good bye!
October 9, 1846. Burlington Free Press 20(17): 4. From the N.Y. Sunday Mercury.