Autumn (Browne)
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For works with similar titles, see Autumn.
Autumn
Autumn it was when droop'd the sweetest flow'rs,
And rivers, swoll'n with pride, o'erlook'd the banks;
Poor grew the day of summer's golden hours,
And void of sap stood Ida's cedar-ranks.
The pleasant meadows sadly lay
In chill and cooling sweats
By rising fountains, or as they
Fear'd winter's wastfull threats.
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This work published before January 1, 1923 is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago. |
