Ere, in the northern gale, The summer tresses of the trees are gone, The woods of Autumn, all around our vale, Have put their glory on. The mountains, that infold 5 In their wide sweep the coloured landscape round, Seem groups of giant kings, in purple’ and gold, That guard the enchanted ground. I roam the woods that crown The upland, where the mingled splendours glow, 10 Where the gay company of trees look down On the green fields below. My steps are not alone In these bright walks; the sweet south-west at play, Flies, rustling, where the painted leaves are strown 15 Along the winding way. And far in heaven, the while, The sun, that sends that gale to wander here, Pours out on the fair earth his quiet smile,-- The sweetest of the year. 20 Where now the solemn shade, Verdure and gloom where many branches meet-- So grateful, when the noon of summer made The valleys sick with heat? Let in through all the trees 25 Come the strange rays: the forest depths are bright; Their sunny-coloured foliage in the breeze Twinkles, like beams of light. The rivulet, late unseen, Where bickering through the shrubs its waters run, 30 Shines with the image of its golden screen, And glimmerings of the sun. But ’neath yon crimson tree, Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, 35 Her blush of maiden shame. Oh, Autumn! why so soon Depart the hues that make thy forests glad; Thy gentle wind and thy fair sunny noon, And leave thee wild and sad? 40 Ah! ’twere a lot too blest, For ever in thy coloured shades to stray; Amid the kisses of the soft south-west To rove and dream for aye; And leave the vain low strife 45 That makes men mad--the tug for wealth and power, The passions and the cares that wither life, And waste its little hour. _William Cullen Bryant._ CCLXI _LAPSE._ A heavenly Night!--methinks to me The soul of other times returns; Sweet as the scents the orange-tree Drops in the wind-flower’s scarlet urns, When sunset, like a city, burns 5 Across the glassy midland sea. This night gives back that double day, Which clothed the earth when I was young! A light most like some godlike lay By parted hero-angels sung:-- 10 It stirred my heart; and through my tongue It passed, methought,--but passed away.