Puslapio vaizdai
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Let in through all the trees

Come the strange rays; the forest depths are

bright;

Their sunny-colored foliage, in the breeze,

Twinkles, like beams of light.

The rivulet, late unseen,

Where bickering through the shrubs its waters

run,

Shines with the image of its golden screen

And glimmerings of the sun.

But 'neath yon crimson tree, Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, Nor mark, within its roseate canopy,

Her blush of maiden shame.

Oh, Autumn! why so soon

Depart the hues that make thy forests glad; Thy gentle wind and thy fair sunny noon, And leave thee wild and cod ?

Ah! 'twere a lot too blest

For ever in thy colored shades to stray;
Amid the kisses of the soft south-west

To rove and dream for aye;

And leave the vain low strife

That makes men mad—the tug for wealth and

power,

The passions and the cares that wither life,
And waste its little hour.

7

MUTATION.

THEY talk of short-lived pleasure—be it so— Pain dies as quickly: stern, hard-featured

pain

Expires, and lets her weary prisoner go.

The fiercest agonies have shortest reign; And after dreams of horror, comes again The welcome morning with its rays of peace.

Oblivion, softly wiping out the stain,

Makes the strong secret pangs of shame to cease: Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase

Are fruits of innocence and blessedness,

Thus joy, o'erborne and bound, doth still release His young limbs from the chains that round

him press.

Weep not that the world changes—did it keep A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed

to weep.

NOVEMBER.

YET one smile more, departing, distant sun!

One mellow smile through the soft vapory air, Ere, o'er the frozen earth, the loud winds run, Or snows are sifted o'er the meadows bare.

One smile on the brown hills and naked trees, And the dark rocks whose summer wreaths

are cast,

And the blue gentian flower, that, in the breeze,

Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last, Yet a few sunny days, in which the bee

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