1824

AUTUMN WOODS

by William Cullen Bryant

AUTUMN WOODS -

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,

In their wide sweep, the colored landscape round,

Seem groups of giant kings, in purple and gold,

That guard the enchanted ground. -

I roam the woods that crown

The uplands, where the mingled splendors glow,

Where the gay company of trees look down

On the green fields below. -

My steps are not alone

In these bright walks; the sweet southwest, at play,

Flies, rustling, where the painted leaves are strown

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. -

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

Come the strange rays; the forest depths are bright;

Their sunny colored foliage, in the breeze,

Twinkles, like beams of light. -

The rivulet, late unseen,

Where bickering through the shrubs its waters run,

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,

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! -

Ah! 'twere a lot too blest

Forever in thy colored shades to stray;

Amid the kisses of the soft southwest

To roam and dream for aye; -

And leave the vain low strife

That makes men mad- the tug for wealth and power-

The passions and the cares that wither life,

And waste its little hour. - -