I.
Beautiful Autumn is dead and gone—
Weep for her!
Calm, and gracious, and very fair,
With sunny robe and with shining hair,
And a tender light in her dreamy eye,
She came to earth but to smile and die—
Weep for her!
Nay, nay, I will not weep!
She came with a smile,
And tarried awhile,
Quieting Nature to sleep;—
Then went on her way
O'er the hill-tops grey,
And yet—and yet, she is dead, you say!
Nay!—she brought us blessings, and left us cheer,
And alive and well shell return next year!—
Why should I weep?