A pale youth paddled wantonly far o'er a sunny lake, And smiled to see the infant leaf in newborn gladness quake; He had brooded the winter through, until his cheek grew pale With dreaming mighty deeds, and now it freshened in the gale. A white roe wandered where sweet herbs and tender grass were peeping-- His snowy head was poised in pride, his chainless heart was leaping; The bugle-bee had called the herd from icy solitude, And he had come at bugle call--fleet centaur of the wood. A robin bowed her golden breast and spread her gauze-wing forth, And aye poured she in carol fond her long imprisoned mirth; No mournful tones, no lute-like wail, were with her music blent; 'Twas--like the fife's shrill voice--a gush of unmixed merriment. II. The maiden wild and rivulet were louder in their glee, The hidden weed waxed lush beneath its woven canopy, Old summer's conch o'er air-waves lured his fragrance-breathing throng, All joy had deepened on the earth, and warmth and light and song. The youth had seen the singing girl and bowed his soul to love; Ambition--aspirations--all the subtle springs that move Man's sleepless youth, were cast aside; old summer's beamy heat Had fired their souls, and low he knelt in fondness at her feet. The roe leapt on: the robin wove her nest of downy hair, And light with bliss high hovered as a blossom floats on air-- Girl, brook, and youth had ripened in the gladness born of spring, Joy still inflamed the wild-deer's heart and plumed the wild-bird's wing. III. The marigold and rose had left the valley and the hill, The pansy frail was sere in dust and dead the daffodil; The aster tall yet wore its leaves, the "golden rob" its flowers, But beauty and perfume had gone with summer's radiant hours. From morn to night through forest glades with naught his path to cheer, The roebuck wandered moodily, o'er leaves all crisped and sere; The bird still sang, but bridal song had changed to widow's wail, And mourning she but grieved the more that grief might not avail. But ah! the saddest change of all--the chilling blight had come On hearts within whose holy bowers young love had made his home; The verdure had departed thence, the vermeil tenderness And frosty winds had brought to dust the growth of early bliss. The maiden heard the murmuring stream but murmured no reply, A melancholy coldness dwelt within her shrouded eye, She scarcely heard _his_ burning prayer whose love no change might quell, And only lived enough to breathe an icy "fare-thee-well." IV. The sombre autumn-sky no more sent down its mournful rain, A dim and sickly veil had long o'er hill and hollow lain, But death at last had trampled on the few remaining flowers, All save the restless mandrake died with autumn's last sad hours.