93
'Tis fearful on the raging main,
Though lovely here on land,
Where the varied seasons seem again
Entwining hand in hand:
The golden hue of Summer time,
The Autumn tints of grief';
All save the Spring's young hour of prime,
Her fresh and verdant leaf.
Though lovely here on land,
Where the varied seasons seem again
Entwining hand in hand:
The golden hue of Summer time,
The Autumn tints of grief';
All save the Spring's young hour of prime,
Her fresh and verdant leaf.
Like youth, she cannot come again,
Borne on unruffled wing;
The circling year, and life's brief span,
Can feel no second Spring.
On Winter's brow may Summer's beam
Shine brightly as of yore,
But still that early morning dream,
Life's spring-time, comes no more.
Borne on unruffled wing;
The circling year, and life's brief span,
Can feel no second Spring.
On Winter's brow may Summer's beam
Shine brightly as of yore,
But still that early morning dream,
Life's spring-time, comes no more.
But oh! if Faith and Peace illume
Our mellow Autumn day,
Who could regret the vernal bloom
That passed so soon away?
Who o'er the setting sun could sigh,
If sure the morn would bring
A beam to light Eternity,—
A never-fading Spring?
Our mellow Autumn day,
Who could regret the vernal bloom
That passed so soon away?
Who o'er the setting sun could sigh,
If sure the morn would bring
A beam to light Eternity,—
A never-fading Spring?
E.
September 24, 1836.
