Of Autumn—Sabbath of the year;
But purer pleasures, joys sublime,
Await the dawn of holy time.
Hushed is the tumult of the day,
And worldly cares, and business cease.
While soft the vesper breezes play
To hymn the glad return of peace;
O season blest! O moments given,
To turn the vagrant thoughts to Heaven.
What though involved in lurid sight,