Poems (Taggart)/Autumn
For works with similar titles, see Autumn.
AUTUMN.1822.
Now Autumn tints the scene With sallow hues and dim; And o'er the sky, Fast hurrying, fly Dark, sombre clouds, that pour From far the roaring din: The rattling rain and hail, With the deep sounding wailOf wild and warring melodies, begin.
The wind flies fitful through the forest trees, With hollow howlings, and in wrathful mood; As when some maniac fierce, disdaining ease, Tears with convulsive power, In horrid fury's hour, His locks dishevelled; and a chilling moanBreathes from his tortured breast, with dread and dismal tone.
Thus, the impetuous blast Doth from the woodlands tear The leaves, when Summer's reign is past, And sings aloud the requiem of despair;— Pours ceaseless the reverberated sigh, While past the honors of the forest fly,Kiss the low ground, and flutter, shrink, and die.