AN AUTUMN VIOLET.
59
AN AUTUMN VIOLET.
HE wind shrieks in shrill discontent,The clouds frown their pitiless warning,
With frost-pearls the ground is besprent
This dreary and sorrowful morning.
Yet here, dreading not the bleak day,
Nor the cold sky so frigidly glooming,
Is a ghost of the long-buried May,—
A violet, sweet and fresh-blooming!
Ah, the days may be sullen and sober,
The nights may be stormy and cold;
But, for him who has eyes to behold,
The violets bloom in October!
The nights may be stormy and cold;
But, for him who has eyes to behold,
The violets bloom in October!
Poor foundling! thy welcome is cold,—
Granted after a merciless fashion;
For the year has grown fretful and old,
And knows neither love nor compassion.
Oh, of all the misfortunes which here
Make life so oppressive and weary,
Granted after a merciless fashion;
For the year has grown fretful and old,
And knows neither love nor compassion.
Oh, of all the misfortunes which here
Make life so oppressive and weary,
