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In the vase felts u mes de gemer's way,

Lui morize m nera e mi pain?

fach scenes tim loves, xam ct te minstrel strain.

X1. ånt som utiengi is icasser note
Stare vui te star's homely sing an ve
Though fant is benities is the tincs remote
That glean through mist in amma's evening sky
And few as leaves that tremble, sear and dry,
When wild November hath his bugle wound;
Nor nock my na krely glenner I.

Through feids time-wasted on sad inquest bound,
Where happier bards of yore have richer harvest found.

THE FALLING LEAF.

SCOTT.

S the light leaf, whose fall to ruin bears Some trembling insect's little world of cares, Descends in silence, while around waves on The mighty forest, reckless what is gone! Such is man's doom-and, ere an hour be flown Reflect, thou trifler, such may be thine own!

MRS. HEMANS.

THE FALLING LEAF.

HE bright sun threw his glory all around,
And then the balmy, mild autumnal breeze
Swept, with a musical and fitful sound,

Among the fading foliage of the trees;
And now and then, a playful gust would seize
Some falling leaf, and, like a living thing,
Which flits about wherever it may please,
It floated round in many an airy ring,

Till on the dewy gress it fell with transient wing.

BARTON.

THE FALLING LEAF.

ERE I a trembling Leaf

On yonder stately tree,

After a season gay and brief, Condemned to fade and flee,—.

I should be loath to fall

Beside the common way, Weltering in mire and spurned by all,

Till trodden down to clay.

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Who that hath ever been

Could bear to be no more? Yet who would tread again the scene He trod through life before?

On, with intense desire,

Man's spirit will move on;

It seems to die, yet like heaven's fire,
It is not quenched, but gone.

MONTGOMERY.

WINTER.

O longer autumn's glowing red
Upon our Forest hills is shed;

No more beneath the evening beam
Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam;
Away hath passed the heather-bell
That bloomed so rich on Needpath fell;
Sallow his brow, and russet bare
Are now the sister heights of Yair.
The sheep before the pinching heaven
To sheltered dale and down are driven,
Where yet some faded herbage pines,
And yet a watery sunbeam shines.
In meek despondency they eye
The withered sward and wintry sky.
The shepherd shifts his mantle's fold,
And wraps him closer from the cold;
His dogs no merry circles wheel,
But, shivering, follow at his heel;
A cowering glance they often cast,
As deeper moans the gathering blast.
My imps, though hardy, bold and wild,
As best befits the mountain child,
Feel the sad influence of the hour,
And wail the daisy's vanished flower;
Their summer gambols tell, and mourn,
And anxious ask,-Will spring return,
And birds and lambs again be gay,

And blossoms clothe the hawthorn spray?—

Yes, prattlers, yes. The daisy's flower
Again shall paint your summer bower;
Again the hawthorn shall supply
The garlands you delight to tie ;
The lambs upon the lea shall bound,
The wild birds carol to the round,
And while you frolic light as they,
Too short shall seem the summer day.

0

SCOTT.

WINTER.

HOU hast thy beauties, sterner ones, I own,
Than those of thy precursors; yet to thee
Belong the charms of solemn majesty
And naked grandeur. Awful is the tone
Of thy tempestuous nights, when clouds are blown
By hurrying winds across the troubled sky;
Pensive, when softer breezes faintly sigh
Through leafless bowers with ivy overgrown.
Thou hast thy decorations too, although

Thou art austere: thy studded mantle, gay
With icy brilliants, which as proudly glow
As erst Golconda's; and thy pure array
Of regal ermine, when the drifted snow
Envelops Nature, till her features seem
Like pale, but lovely ones, seen when we
dream.

BARTON.

WINTER.

H Winter, ruler of the inverted year!
Thy scattered hair with sleet like ashes
filled

Thy breath congealed upon thy lips, thy cheeks

Fringed with a beard made white with other snows

Than those of age, thy forehead wrapped in clouds,

A leafless branch thy sceptre, and thy throne
A sliding car, indebted to no wheels,

But urged by storms along its slippery way,
I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st,
And dreaded as thou art!-Thou hold'st the Sun
A prisoner in the yet undawning east,
Shortening his journey between morn and noon,
And hurrying him, impatient of his stay,
Down to the rosy west; but kindly still
Compensating his loss with added hours
Of social converse and instructive ease,
And gathering, at short notice, in one group,
The family dispersed, and fixing thought,
Not less dispersed by daylight and its cares.
I crown thee king of intimate delights,
Fire-side enjoyments, home-born happiness,
And all the comforts that the lowly roof
Of undisturbed retirement, and the hours
Of long, uninterrupted evening know.

COWPER.

WINTER.

EE Winter comes, to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train,
Vapours, and Clouds, and Storms. Be these
my theme,

These that exalt the soul to solemn thought,
And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms!
Congenial horrors, hail!

Now when the cheerless empire of the sky
To Capricorn the Centaur Archer yields,
And fierce Aquarius stains the inverted year,
Hung o'er the furthest verge of heaven, the Sun
Scarce spreads through ether the dejected day.
Faint are his gleams, and ineffectual shoot

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