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But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, And the yellow sun-flower by the brook in autumn beauty
stood, Till fell the frost from the clear, cold heaven, as falls the
plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone from upland,
glade and glen.
And now, when comes the calm, mild day, as still such
days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter
home, When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the
trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,
[more. And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no
And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died, The fair, meek blossom that grew up and faded by my
side : In the cold moist earth we laid her when the forest cast
the leaf, And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief; Yet not unmeet it was, that one, like that young friend of
ours, So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.
THE PARTING-A PICTURE.
He loved her to the last. And when they parted
She made him at the altar- and his voice
But they must part. His call was to a land
Again he bent above her, but spake not.
List! thou child of wind and sea,
Tell me of the far off deep, Where the tempest's wing is free,
And the waters never sleep. Thou perchance the storm hath aided,
In its works of stern despair, Or perchance thy hand hath braided,
In deep caves, the mermaid's hair.
Wave! now on the golden sands,
Silent as thou art, and broken, Bearest thou not from distant strands
To my heart some pleasant token? Tales of mountains of the south,
Spangles of the ore of silver, Which with playful singing mouth,
Thou hast leaped on high to pilfer?
Mournful Wave! I deemed thy song
Was telling of a floating prison, Which when tempests swept along,
And the mighty winds were risen, Foundered in the ocean's grasp,
While the brave and fair were dying. Wave! didst mark a white hand clasp
In thy folds as thou wert flying ?
Hast thou seen the hallowed rock,
Where the pride of kings reposes, Crowned with many a misty lock,
Wreathed with samphire green and roses? Or with joyous playful leap
Hast thou been a tribute flinging Up that bold and jutting steep,
Pearls upon the south wind stringing ?
Faded Wave! a joy to thee
Now thy flight and toil are over! Oh! may my departure be
Calm as thine, thou ocean rover! When this soul's last joy or mirth
On the shore of time is driven, Be its lot like thine on earth,
To be lost away in heaven.