Poems (Chitwood)/Autumn Flowers

by Mary Louisa Chitwood

For works with similar titles, see Autumn Flowers.

AUTUMN HOURS.

The Spring has come, the Spring has gone
 The Summer, too, is past,
And the Autumn-time, the Autumn-time,
 It hath returned at last;
And as the wind all restless sighs
 Through every leafy tree,
I call to mind the Autumn-hours
 I used to spend with thee.

The trees have often cast their leaves
 Upon the frost-gem'd ground,
And the snows of many winters since
 The hills and woods have crowned.
Oh, many a year, with rapid wing,
 Has gone by, changingly,
Since the Autumn hours, the Autumn hours,
 I used to spend with thee.

Oh, cherished, cherished Autumn hours,
 We were but children then,
And our lives passed on as quietly,
 As the river in the glen.
And as we rambled side by side,
 Culling the ling'ring flowers,
Life seemed to us a gorgeous chain
 Of pleasure-laden hours.

But years have come, and years have gone
 Since that sweet time, I know,
And life hath brought its many cares,
 And many throbs of woe,
And angel songs no more we hear
 Amid life's fading bowers;
Oh, sorrow nestles in my heart
 Since those dear Autumn hours.

The Autumn comes, the Autumn goes,
 The leaflets fade and die,
And the hollow winds, in dirge-like notes,
 Go sadly whisp'ring by.
Dear friend, the tears are in my eyes,
 Amid the dying flowers,
For I go dreaming to the past—
 Those by-gone Autumn hours.

The grove and vale, and earth and sky,
 Are as they used to be,
But hours can never be like those
 I used to spend with thee.
Yet time and change, those workers strong,
 Can never take from me
The memory of those Autumn hours
 I used to spend with thee.