190
AN AUTUMNAL THOUGHT
1795.
'Tis past! we breathe ! assuaged at length
The flames that drank our vital strength!
Smote with intolerable heat
No more our throbbing temples beat.
How clear the sky, how pure the air,
The heavens how bright, the earth how fair!
The bosom cool, the spirits light,
Active the day, and calm the night!
But O, the swiftly shortening day !
Low in the west the sinking ray !
With rapid pace advancing still
"The morning hoar, the evening chill,"
The falling leaf, the fading year,
And Winter ambushed in the rear!
