Poems (Howard)/Indian Summer
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Indian Summer.
Again that Unseen Hand hath wrought
Brown, amber tints, and gory!
And, lo! October woods have caught
Their true autumnal glory!
Brown, amber tints, and gory!
And, lo! October woods have caught
Their true autumnal glory!
A welcome, cordial and sincere,
Awaits this tardy comer,
The gem of each recurring year,
Delightful Indian Summer!
Awaits this tardy comer,
The gem of each recurring year,
Delightful Indian Summer!
A touch of frost upon the trees
Has set them all a-glowing!
On leaves, that dally in the breeze,
Their matchless hues bestowing!
Has set them all a-glowing!
On leaves, that dally in the breeze,
Their matchless hues bestowing!
While mountain slopes reveal a scene
Of undisputed splendor,
Far brighter lies the vale between,
In sunset raptures tender.
Of undisputed splendor,
Far brighter lies the vale between,
In sunset raptures tender.
The faintest zephyr breath that stirs
Fair nature's calm reposing,
Provokes a shower of chestnut-burrs
Their hidden wealth disclosing.
Fair nature's calm reposing,
Provokes a shower of chestnut-burrs
Their hidden wealth disclosing.
Where purple-clustered muscatels
In dewy lanes are fragrant,
The bumble-bee in ambush dwells,
A loitering, idle vagrant!
In dewy lanes are fragrant,
The bumble-bee in ambush dwells,
A loitering, idle vagrant!
A dreamy, atmospheric haze
O'er hill and vale is lying,
As, passing fair, the year displays
Her "matchless charms"—in dying.
O'er hill and vale is lying,
As, passing fair, the year displays
Her "matchless charms"—in dying.
Thus beautiful, when touched by rime
Of age, by God's disposing,
Should life, like Indian Summer time,
Be brightest in its closing.
Of age, by God's disposing,
Should life, like Indian Summer time,
Be brightest in its closing.