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It was the morning of a day in spring,
The sun looked gladness from the eastern sky;
Birds were upon the trees and on the wing,
And all the air was rich with melody;
The heaven, the calm, clear heaven was bright on

Earth laughed beneath, in all its freshening green;
The free, blue stream, in joy went murmuring by,

And many a sunny glade and flowery scene, Gleamed out, like thoughts of youth, life's troubled years



The rose's breath upon the south wind came,
Oft, as its whisperings the young branches stirred,
And flowers, for which the poet hath no name;
While, 'midst the blossoms of the grove was heard
The murmur of the restless humming-bird; .

Waters were dancing in the mellow light,
And joyous tones, and many a cheerful word,

Stole on the charmed ear with such delight,
As waits on soft sweet tones of music heard at night.


The night dews lay in the half-opened flower,
Like hopes that nestle in the youthful breast;
And ruffled by the light airs of the hour,
Awoke the clear lake from its glassy rest;
Far, blending with the blue and distant west,
Lay the dim woodlands, and the quiet gleam
Of amber clouds, like islands of the blest-
Glorious and bright, and changing like a dream,
And lessening fast away beneath the’ intenser beam.


Songs were amid the mountains far and wide,
And songs were on the green slopes blooming nigh;
While ʼmid the springing flowers on every side,
Upon its painted wings, the butterfly ,
Roamed, a sweet blossom of the sunny sky;
The visible smile of joy was on the scene;
'T was a bright vision, but too soon to die:

Spring may not linger in her robes of greenAutumn, in storm and shade, shall quench the summer sheen.

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I came again ;—'t was autumn's stormy hour,
The wild winds murmured in the yellow wood;
The sere leaves, rustling in the naked bower,
Were whirled in eddies to the mountain flood;
Dark clouds enthralled the west; an orb of blood,
The red sun pierced the hazy atmosphere;
And torrent murmurs broke the solitude,

Where, straying lonely, as with steps of fear,
I marked the deepening gloom that shrouds the fading



The ruffled lake heaved wildly; near the shore
It bore the red leaves of the shaken tree,
Shed in the violent north wind's restless roar-
Emblems of man upon life's stormy sea :
Pale, withered leaves! once to the breezes free,
They waved in spring and summer's golden prime;
Now, even as clouds or dew, how fast they flee!

Weak, trembling on the boughs in autumn's clime,
As man sinks down in death, chilled by the touch of


I looked again ; and fast the dying sun
Was fading in the melancholy west ---

Sending his fitful gleams, through clouds of dun,
O’er nature's desolate and dreary breast;
He lit the dew-drop's cold and frozen rest,
That slept on yellow leaves the woods among;
The sered earth's flowers that did the glades invest,

Had perished, and were buried where they sprung, While the wild autumn wind their mournful requiem



I marked the picture;—’t was the changeful scene
Which life holds up to the observant eye;
Youth's spring of gladness, and its bowers of green,
The streaming sunlight of its morning sky,
And the dark clouds of Death, that linger by!
Yet oft, when life is fresh and hope is strong,
Shall sorrow fill with tears the youthful eye,

And age to death move peacefully along,
As on the singer's lip expires the finished song!


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