AN AUTUMN IDYL. 



THE presence of autumn is here; 

The daisies are drooping and dying, 

The blood of the arbute is chill, 

The leaves of the maple are sere, 

And through them the breezes are sighing,— 

The presence of autumn is here. 


The sadness of autumn is here; 

The brightness of summer is over, 

The grass on the hillside is wan, 

The sky is portentous and drear, 

The bees have forsaken the clover,—

The sadness of autumn is here, 


The muteness of autumn is here; 

The swallows have hastened away, 

The winter birds sing on the bough 

A song that lacks music and cheer; 

All nature seems wrapt in decay, — 

The muteness of autumn is here. 


The lessons of autumn are here, 

As told in the storm-king's harsh breath, 

Which, warns men how fleeting is life; 

But at the lone grave of the year 

The flowers are lovely in death,— 

The lessons of autumn are here. 





Youth's Companion.