Sere leaves of the autumn, resplendent and bright,
(Oh! for the frost and the fading.)
Why fall ye so thickly by day and by night,
With raining of color that dazzles the sight,
(Alas! for the winter’s invading.)
Till heaped on my bosom like relics of love
Ye lie, sad remembrancers, sorrow to move
My spirit with woe overlading.
Leaves.
We thought to have woven a garment of grace,
(Oh! for the moon and the veiling.)
Embroidered with beauties bright fancy should trace,
But, alas! we have gazed on his death-stricken face,
(Alas! for the heavens are paling.)
And the robe of our fancy is changed to a pall
And the garlands that lately did crown him must fall;
Love’s labor is all unavailing.
World.
Pale snow, with a touch that is light as the air,
(Oh! for sky’s cloud and earth’s cover.)
Why weighest thou down on my heart filled with care,
On my soul with its anguish too heavy to bear.
(Alas! for the end when ’tis over.)
In thy mantle of gauze why hid’st thou mine eyes,
That would look at fond love e’er forever love lies
In the grave of my newly-slain lover.
Snow.
I cover thy face lest the sight of thy dead,
(Oh! for love, sacred and splendid.)
Should strike in thy soul its unnameable dread,
For sympathy now and forever is fled,
(Alas! for lost love, undefended.)
And I wrap up thy breast with the warmth of my heart,
Which shall stay till the spring breaks and bids me depart,
When the time of thy mourning is ended.