AUTUMN.
WORDS AND MUSIC WRITTEN FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM; THE LATTER BY GEO. J. WEBB.
Andante.
The summer departed,
So gentle and brief—
Pale autumn is come,
With its sere yellow leaf.
Its breath in the vale,
Its voice in the breeze,
A many hued garment
Is over the trees.
In red and in purple
The leaves seem to bloom,—
The stern slayer comes—
It hath spoken their doom;
And those that may seem
With rubies to vie,—
They tell us that beauty
Blooms only to die.
Yet sad as the whispers
Of sorrow its breath,
And touching its hues
As the garment of death,—
Still autumn, though sad
And mournful it be,
Is sweetest and dearest
Of seasons to me.
THE HYÆNA.
MERRY’S MUSEUM.
VOLUME II.—No. 3.