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48

EARLIER POEMS.

The softly-warbled song

Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings

Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves

along

The forest openings.

When the bright sunset fills

The silver woods with light, the green slope throws

Its shadows in the hollows of the hills,

And wide the upland glows.

And, when the eve is born,

In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far,

Is hollowed out, and the moon dips her horn,

And twinkles many a star

Inverted in the tide,

Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows

throw,

And the fair trees look over, side by side,

And see themselves below.

AN APRIL DAY.

Sweet April!-many a thought

Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;

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Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,

Life's golden fruit is shed.

AUTUMN.

WITH What a glory comes and goes the year! The buds of spring, those beautiful harbingers Of sunny skies and cloudless times, enjoy Life's newness, and eartn's garniture spread

out;

And when the silver habit of the clouds

Comes down upon the autumn sun, and with

A sober gladness the old

year

takes up

His bright inheritance of golden fruits,

A pomp and pageant fill the splendid scene.

There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellow richness on the clustered trees, And, from a beaker full of richest dyes,

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Pouring new glory on the autumn woods, And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds, Morn on the mountain, like a summer bird, Lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales

The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate

wooer,

life

Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up
Within the solemn woods of ash deep-crim

soned,

And silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved, Where autumn, like a faint old man, sits down

By the wayside a-weary.

The golden robin moves.

Through the trees

The purple finch,

That on wild cherry and red cedar feeds,
A winter bird, comes with its plaintive whistle,
And pecks by the witch-hazel, whilst aloud
From cottage roofs the warbling blue-bird
sings,

And merrily, with oft-repeated stroke,
Sounds from the threshing-floor the busy flail.

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EARLIER POEMS.

O what a glory doth this world put on For him who with a fervent heart, goes forth Under the bright and glorious sky, and looks On duties well performed, and days well spent! For him the wind, ay, and the yellow leaves Shall have a voice, and give him eloquent teachings.

He shall so hear the solemn hymn, that Death He lifted up for all, that he shall go

To his long resting-place without a tear.

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