poems.
43
The summer comes so gay,
And brilliant fruits are shining;
The fields are rich in hay,
'Tis nature's holiday,
And flow'rs, their buds entwining,
Shed odours fair
Upon the air,
The breeze the sweetest finding!
And brilliant fruits are shining;
The fields are rich in hay,
'Tis nature's holiday,
And flow'rs, their buds entwining,
Shed odours fair
Upon the air,
The breeze the sweetest finding!
Now, like a noble queen
O'er her past glory sighing,
The autumn decks the scene,
And changes the soft green
For glorious hues,
Which she doth choose
To robe her hour of dying!
O'er her past glory sighing,
The autumn decks the scene,
And changes the soft green
For glorious hues,
Which she doth choose
To robe her hour of dying!
Over the mournful plain
The stormy winds are blowing;
Winter abroad doth reign,—
I hear his voice again;
Dark clouds above are snowing.
But ah, the frost
In light is lost!
Hope lives though life is going!
The stormy winds are blowing;
Winter abroad doth reign,—
I hear his voice again;
Dark clouds above are snowing.
But ah, the frost
In light is lost!
Hope lives though life is going!
