Poems of Sentiment and Imagination/Autumn

by Frances A. Fuller

For works with similar titles, see Autumn.

AUTUMN.

Autumn breezes now are blowing,
Groves with rainbow colors glowing,
Flowers dim and faded growing,
Fading with the year!
Louder sounds the rushing river,
More the forest leaves do quiver,
Through the boughs the wild winds shiver,
With a voice of fear.

Wildly sweet is its low moaning,

Our sad hearts with rapture toning,

Every chord its power owning,

Yielding a soft thrill;

Clouds across the sky are straying

Leaves in whirling eddies playing,

Birds their farewell notes essaying,

Making concert shrill.

Spirits through the earth are gliding,

In the forest shadows hiding,

Mourning for the short abiding

Of earth's witching bloom:

Hear them when the daylight endeth,

When the dusky eve descendeth,

And her sable pinion blendeth

All things into gloom.

Heed them when the clouds are flying,

In low, solemn whispers sighing,

From each little nook replying,

With a wail of fear:

List them where the insect hummeth,

Where the misty sunlight cometh,

Where the tiny cascade foameth,

Making music clear.

Roam by wood, or field, or river,

Everywhere their voices quiver,

With a sweet, low cadence ever,

Mourning beauty's doom!

Silence now more silent seemeth,

Each bright planet brighter beameth,

And the young moon colder gleameth

Through the solemn gloom.

Now do I go forth communing,

My wild spirit rapture owning,

Thrilling to the whispered moaning

Of the spirit choir;

Fountains in my heart upgushing,

Dim remembrance o'er me rushing,

Eye and cheek most brightly flushing

With a welcome fire.

Did each season bring such gladness,

Rapture so mixed up with sadness,

Soon would a delicious madness

Steal my heart away:

Every leaf with crimson gleaming,

Is with pensive fancies teeming,

Bringing dim, unconscious dreaming,

Bright and brief as they.