Thy lingering breath is sweet to me
Thy beauty is not fled,
And while thou live’st in memory
I will not call thee dead.
TREES
How helpful to my life are forest trees!
Their beauty charms me, while their strength sustains
My weakness, and to be a day with them
Is as a sweet communion-day with God.
How, like a strong man, stands the sturdy oak,
Mightier than all his fellows; yet he seems
To boast, not strength inherited, so much
As from fierce battling with the elements,
Relying not on Providence alone,
But on himself—remembering the past,
And how from feebleness he grew to strength.
Was ever king in purple and in gold
So grand as they in autumn’s coloring?
A most inspiring lesson to my life
Their beauty teacher. In it, I behold
A type of what this human life should be
When the end cometh.
Faces, I have seen,
That speak to me, e’en as these autumn leaves,
Of a rich harvest safely garnered in.
Would autumn leaves be just as richly dyed,
Did only sunshine and warm summer showers
Fall on them, and the dreary days come not?
But e’en as glory of the king may fade,
Or he be robbed of all his rich attire,
So fade and pass away their glories all,
While ever and anon the drear winds sigh
A requiem of sadness. Yet, above
The dead leaves rustling, do the days go on,
And spring-time gladness will return again.
O, in their hours of calm, do trees not dream
Of the bright days to come of bud and bloom?
Thus do they speak to me, and seem to teach
The wondrous mystery of life and death.
The first spring dandelion’s bloom is more
To me than all the written word; it speaks
Directly to the soul, and seem to be
The voice of God. It is a thing of life,
And what can better solve the mystery?
It is a proof of promises fulfilled,
And bids us trust, unfalteringly, when
Again the dead leaves rustle ’neath our feet,
And the cold snow-flakes cover all we love.
O God, so many paths lead unto Thee,
’Twere strange if any soul should miss the way!