140
A song for autumn.
Pluck down the rainbow; make steadfast the throne
Of the star that was faint in the summer night!
Let the white daughters of wave and sun
Weep as they cloister the pale, pale light.
Let the mist-wreaths brood o'er the valley-bound rills,
And the sky trail its mantle far over the hills.
Of the star that was faint in the summer night!
Let the white daughters of wave and sun
Weep as they cloister the pale, pale light.
Let the mist-wreaths brood o'er the valley-bound rills,
And the sky trail its mantle far over the hills.
Plunder the wrecks of the forest, and blind
The waters that picture its ruinous dome!
Wildly, oh, wildly, most sorrowful wind,
Chant, like a prophet, of terror to come!
Like a Niobe stricken with infinite dread,
Leave the spirit of beauty alone with her dead.
The waters that picture its ruinous dome!
Wildly, oh, wildly, most sorrowful wind,
Chant, like a prophet, of terror to come!
Like a Niobe stricken with infinite dread,
Leave the spirit of beauty alone with her dead.
Throne the pale Naiad that filleth her urn
At the fount of the sun; on the curtain of night,
Paint wild Auroras like visions that burn,
Rosy Auroras like dreams of delight!
Mantle the earth, fold the robe o'er her breast,
While the sky, like a seraph, bends over her rest!
At the fount of the sun; on the curtain of night,
Paint wild Auroras like visions that burn,
Rosy Auroras like dreams of delight!
Mantle the earth, fold the robe o'er her breast,
While the sky, like a seraph, bends over her rest!
