Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/A Thought in September

A Thought in September.

We watch the summer leaves and flowers decay, And feel a sadness o'er the spirit thrown,As if the beauty fading fast away Erom Nature's scenes, would leave our hearts more lone,More desolate, when sunny hours are gone— And much of joy from outward things we find,But more from treasures that may be our own, Through winter's storm the higher hopes of mind—The trust which soars from earth—earth has no chains to bind