Autumn Voices
II.
LATE DAYS
How sweetly dies the year,
Serenely lapsing to its last repose!
It flamed with joy when first the end drew near;
Now hushed it sinks into its golden close,
As hearth-fires burning low
Lie still and glow.
Serenely lapsing to its last repose!
It flamed with joy when first the end drew near;
Now hushed it sinks into its golden close,
As hearth-fires burning low
Lie still and glow.
I hear our little maid
Sing through the rustling leaves her cheery song.
Her spring-time voice rings out so unafraid,
So like to one that has been silent long,
I shut my eyes to see
If it can be.
Sing through the rustling leaves her cheery song.
Her spring-time voice rings out so unafraid,
So like to one that has been silent long,
I shut my eyes to see
If it can be.
The past looks all a dream:
I doubt my joys, and oh! I doubt my grief!
The shadow mingles strangely with the gleam,
And all drops from me like a withered leaf
Blown by celestial wind
Far, far behind.
I doubt my joys, and oh! I doubt my grief!
The shadow mingles strangely with the gleam,
And all drops from me like a withered leaf
Blown by celestial wind
Far, far behind.
Now there remains a rest;
And, warmly wrapped within this filmy haze,
That spreads its yellow net across the west,
Upon the sweet receding year I gaze
And feel the tender peace
Of days that cease.
And, warmly wrapped within this filmy haze,
That spreads its yellow net across the west,
Upon the sweet receding year I gaze
And feel the tender peace
Of days that cease.
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