Poems (Gifford)/Autumn
For works with similar titles, see Autumn.
AUTUMN.
It seems but yesterday that we rejoiced
To welcome the first pledges of the spring
On tree and hedgerow; yet those tiny shoots
Have swelled and opened into myriad leaves,
Clothing the earth with an unrivalled robe
Of verdure, decked with flowers of every hue
Throughout the glorious summer. Ah!but now
The bright, brief day of Flora's happy reign
Is well-nigh over, the rich wealth of leaves
Is hastening to decay, and soon we know
The autumn winds will scatter them to earth.
To welcome the first pledges of the spring
On tree and hedgerow; yet those tiny shoots
Have swelled and opened into myriad leaves,
Clothing the earth with an unrivalled robe
Of verdure, decked with flowers of every hue
Throughout the glorious summer. Ah!but now
The bright, brief day of Flora's happy reign
Is well-nigh over, the rich wealth of leaves
Is hastening to decay, and soon we know
The autumn winds will scatter them to earth.
Yet has the dying summer left to us
A precious legacy of grain and fruit,
And, ere it bares the trees, the autumn brings
The common joy of harvest, true and deep.
Now do the broad fields stand so thick with corn
They laugh and sing, and, catching their refrain,
The reaper labours with a hearty will,
Never so blithe as now, when bygone toil
Meets with its glad and plentiful success.
******
How oft the sun in undimmed splendour shines
Throughout the day, then hides awhile at eve
Behind earth's rising vapours, to break forth
Before it passes the horizon's bound
In majesty ineffable, and paint
With every rainbow tint the western sky!
So, when the evening of the year comes on,
All nature dons at first a sober dress,
Then fading leaves in later days reveal
A splendour that the summer never knew.
The spreading elm is softly shaded now
From green to brightest orange, and the beech
Seen in the light of the descending sun
Glows like a monster fire; the cherry-tree
Is dyed to richest crimson, and the oak
Blends many a shade of yellow, green, and brown;
While still the stately cedar-tree retains
Its garb of changeless verdure, to contrast
With the more gorgeous beauty of the rest.
A precious legacy of grain and fruit,
And, ere it bares the trees, the autumn brings
The common joy of harvest, true and deep.
Now do the broad fields stand so thick with corn
They laugh and sing, and, catching their refrain,
The reaper labours with a hearty will,
Never so blithe as now, when bygone toil
Meets with its glad and plentiful success.
******
How oft the sun in undimmed splendour shines
Throughout the day, then hides awhile at eve
Behind earth's rising vapours, to break forth
Before it passes the horizon's bound
In majesty ineffable, and paint
With every rainbow tint the western sky!
So, when the evening of the year comes on,
All nature dons at first a sober dress,
Then fading leaves in later days reveal
A splendour that the summer never knew.
The spreading elm is softly shaded now
From green to brightest orange, and the beech
Seen in the light of the descending sun
Glows like a monster fire; the cherry-tree
Is dyed to richest crimson, and the oak
Blends many a shade of yellow, green, and brown;
While still the stately cedar-tree retains
Its garb of changeless verdure, to contrast
With the more gorgeous beauty of the rest.
Too soon the picture changes, and presents
Bare, silent fields, and thick and chilling mists,
And gloomy skies and long and driving rains,
And narrowing days. Ah, yes! farewell
To all things summerlike, a long farewell!
Bare, silent fields, and thick and chilling mists,
And gloomy skies and long and driving rains,
And narrowing days. Ah, yes! farewell
To all things summerlike, a long farewell!
Yet e'en this season hath its own dear joys,
Now does the household hearth renew its charms
And restful days succeed to busy toil;
And oh! the grandeur of the calm, clear night,
Again we greet the half-forgotten gems
Of the fair heavens,—the sweet Pleiades,
Orion bold and Sirius his train-bearer;
And, though the chorus of the groves is hushed,
The robin sings his solo at our door,
And the chrysanthemums are bright and gay.
Now does the household hearth renew its charms
And restful days succeed to busy toil;
And oh! the grandeur of the calm, clear night,
Again we greet the half-forgotten gems
Of the fair heavens,—the sweet Pleiades,
Orion bold and Sirius his train-bearer;
And, though the chorus of the groves is hushed,
The robin sings his solo at our door,
And the chrysanthemums are bright and gay.
Oh, autumn! thou art very beautiful,
And very drear! Thou hast so much of joy,
So much too of regret! Yet, as we sigh,
We hear thee whisper of a spring to be,
A blessed spring of glory unalloyed,
That shall not pass away.
And very drear! Thou hast so much of joy,
So much too of regret! Yet, as we sigh,
We hear thee whisper of a spring to be,
A blessed spring of glory unalloyed,
That shall not pass away.