I never knew how long I sat to brood;—
The starry sparks of Night, and those the ashes held
Were, with my strangely melancholy mood,
By Dawn's pale pinion,—raised o'er all—dispelled.
The starry sparks of Night, and those the ashes held
Were, with my strangely melancholy mood,
By Dawn's pale pinion,—raised o'er all—dispelled.
TOWARD THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR
Autumn on Nature's fevered brow has laid
Her cooling hands, to soothe her into sleep;
And when o'er earth Night throws his sombre shade,
With deep drawn sigh, remains her watch to keep.
Nature, first tossing in delirium,
At length sinks into quietest repose;
And Death doth in the sudden silence come,
To lay her body 'neath the Winter snows.
Her cooling hands, to soothe her into sleep;
And when o'er earth Night throws his sombre shade,
With deep drawn sigh, remains her watch to keep.
Nature, first tossing in delirium,
At length sinks into quietest repose;
And Death doth in the sudden silence come,
To lay her body 'neath the Winter snows.
53
