But soon the frost-king's icy breath
Will chill her laughing beauty;
And she will waken in the dusk
Unto a sterner duty.
Ah! life is full of days like these,
Of days too bright to perish;
Yet death, like winter, claims too oft
The things we most would cherish.
Falling Leaves.
There was a sound of music low--
An undertone of laughter;
The song was done, and can't you guess
The words that followed after?
Like autumn leaves sometimes they fall--
The words that burn and falter;
And is it true they too must fade
Upon Love's sacred alter?
From memory each one of us
Can cull some sweetest treasure;
Yet golden days, like golden leaves,
Give pain as well as pleasure.
There was a sound of music low--
An undertone of laughter:
The sun was gone--yet heaven knew
The stars that followed after.
Autumn Flowers.
O crimson-tined flowers
That live when others die,
What thoughtless hand unloving
Could ever pass you by?
You are the last bright blossoms,
The summer's after-glow,
When all her early children
Have faded long ago.
Sweet golden-rod and xenia
And crimson marigold,
What dreams of autumn splendor
Your velvet leaves unfold.
Long, long ago the violets
Have closed their sweet blue eyes,
And lain with pale, dead faces
Beneath the summer skies.
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