344 CONSOLATIONS OF SOLITUDE
The sun so bright, the stars at night, a mournful look must
wear, For every grace in Nature's face grows loveless to despair. Great God of love I thy world above would seem less fair to be, Save that the dear can with us here in union worship thee.
��But the green will grow to gray again, when autumn hath come
back, And the chestnut sheds in prickly beds its burs upon my track. Then birds that lately were so blithe shall cry with mournful
sound, While falling leaves in every breeze fly whirling round and
round, And the waterfowl in clouds shall howl, slow trailing through
the sky, While warblers light in gusty flight to warmer regions fly. O, gladly would I join their train in foreign lands to roam. And amongst thoughtless things forget the solitude of home ! They shall sing the songs of summer, they shall prate on every
tree. While I, in the lone greenwood, must ponder silently.
And grove and wood as red as blood shall next October glow, When morning bright shall chase the night through mists as
white as snow ; When the wain comes creaking through the field and ripe fruits
have grown mellow. And the maples flout their boughs about in crimson and in
yellow, And red oaks, mingling with the mists that all the mountains
crown, Shall change their hue of vapory blue to a deep russet brown ; When the sumach on the hillside glows like a flaming cloud. And the mill-wheel plies merrily, and the cataract grows loud.
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