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the seasons.
O'er all the lately teeming earth a change marks every scene—
The withering vestures of decay tell where each bloom hath been;
Yet Autumn saw its golden hours, its hours of grateful mirth,
When, fair amid her fading charms, appeared the bounteous Earth,
As traces of decay implied bloom's desolation nigh,
And she the cornucopia full bestowed with smile and sigh.
The fir boughs on the cottage hearth send high a cheerful blaze,
Whilst round the walls each burnished thing is bright with flickering rays;
The door is closed, the window screened, the room with comfort fraught,
'Tis twilight's stilly dark'ning hour, so dear to wandering thought;
And where the cheerful hearthlight falls in warm and shadowy play,
It gleams upon the brow of one whose thoughts seem far away.
Oh! dancing flame, a steadier ray upon those features pour—
Can this be she whose blooming charms so raptured us of yore?'
She too is changed: the golden locks are dimmed, whilst many a thread
Of silver gleams amid the once bright honours of her head;
The withering vestures of decay tell where each bloom hath been;
Yet Autumn saw its golden hours, its hours of grateful mirth,
When, fair amid her fading charms, appeared the bounteous Earth,
As traces of decay implied bloom's desolation nigh,
And she the cornucopia full bestowed with smile and sigh.
The fir boughs on the cottage hearth send high a cheerful blaze,
Whilst round the walls each burnished thing is bright with flickering rays;
The door is closed, the window screened, the room with comfort fraught,
'Tis twilight's stilly dark'ning hour, so dear to wandering thought;
And where the cheerful hearthlight falls in warm and shadowy play,
It gleams upon the brow of one whose thoughts seem far away.
Oh! dancing flame, a steadier ray upon those features pour—
Can this be she whose blooming charms so raptured us of yore?'
She too is changed: the golden locks are dimmed, whilst many a thread
Of silver gleams amid the once bright honours of her head;
