FALL.
I heard a tree to its sole self complain,
Amid whose robes of rust and scarlet stain
The solemn sunshine poured its golden rain.
Amid whose robes of rust and scarlet stain
The solemn sunshine poured its golden rain.
Strange as the mournful sounds that steal through sleep,
As if a mist should strive in dews to weep,
The low, sad cadence past my sense did creep.
As if a mist should strive in dews to weep,
The low, sad cadence past my sense did creep.
"Ah! little, tender, dancing leaves, that first
Out of my sere and wintry branches burst,
With mildest showers and April sunshine nurst;
Out of my sere and wintry branches burst,
With mildest showers and April sunshine nurst;
"More verdant garlands, fresh with life and June,
Wherein the light winds played a fairy tune,
And set them glittering to the quiet moon;
Wherein the light winds played a fairy tune,
And set them glittering to the quiet moon;
"Then, in their prime, the thick, green summer leaves,
Lost in whose rustling depth the cricket grieves,
Or the quaint spider radiant tracery weaves;
Lost in whose rustling depth the cricket grieves,
Or the quaint spider radiant tracery weaves;
