Autumn by Eliza Lee Follen

Sweet Summer, with her flowers, has past,
I hear her parting knell;
I hear the moaning, fitful blast,
Sighing a sad farewell.

But, while she fades and dies away,
In rainbow hues she glows;
Like the last smile of parting day,
Still brightening as she goes.

The robin whistles clear and shrill;
Sad is the cricket’s song;
The wind, wild rushing o’er the hill,
Bears the dead leaf along.

I love this sober, solemn time,
This twilight of the year;
To me, sweet Spring, in all her prime,
Was never half so dear.

While death has set his changing seal
On all that meets the eye,
‘Tis rapture, then, within to feel
The soul that cannot die;—

To look far, far beyond this sky,
To Him who changes never.
This earth, these heavens, shall change and die;
God is the same for ever.

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