Littell's Living Age/Volume 174/Issue 2257/Autumn, 1885

by James Ashcroft Noble

Yes, Autumn comes again and finds me here,
Last year I thought I should be otherwhere
Than 'mid these fading falling leaves; for there,
Beneath life's tree whose leaves are never sere
But green throughout the great eternal year
I thought to lie, and breathe the tranquil air,
And see my boy who, being for earth too fair,
Is fairer still in that celestial sphere.

Perchance for me his little heart did yearn;
Haply to meet me at the golden gate
He oft would wander, stand awhile, and turn
Away to cry, "My father lingers late."
Content thee, little one; my heart doth burn
For thee as thine for me, but God says, "Wait!"