the indian summer.
117
Thus to glorify decay,
Going in life's best array,
Unto groves where death is a forgotten tale,
Falls a sorrow on the spirit?
Heavenly hopes are springing near it.
Earth, a happy child, rejoices,
Keeping time with angel voices.
When such autumn days are done,
There 's a crown behind thy rays, thou setting sun!
Going in life's best array,
Unto groves where death is a forgotten tale,
Falls a sorrow on the spirit?
Heavenly hopes are springing near it.
Earth, a happy child, rejoices,
Keeping time with angel voices.
When such autumn days are done,
There 's a crown behind thy rays, thou setting sun!
