Light as love's smiles the silvery mist at morn
Floats in loose flakes along the limpid river;
The blue-bird's notes upon the soft breeze borne,
As high in air she carols, faintly quiver;
The weeping birch, like banners idly waving,
Bends to the stream, its spicy branches laving;
Beaded with dew the witch-elm's tassels shiver;
The timid rabbit from the furze is peeping,
And from the springy spray the squirrel's gaily leaping.
I love thee, Autumn, for thy scenery ere
The blasts of Winter chase the varied dyes
That gaily deck the slow-declining year;
I love the splendour of thy sunset skies,
The gorgeous hues that tinge each failing leaf,
Lovely as beauty's cheek, as woman's love too, brief;
I love the note of each wild bird that flies,
As on the wind she pours her parting lay,
And wings her loitering flight to summer climes away.
Oh, Nature! still I fondly turn to thee
With feelings fresh as e'er my childhood's were;--
Though wild and passion-tost my youth may be,
Toward thee I still the same devotion bear;
To thee--to thee--though health and hope no more
Life's wasted verdure may to me restore--
I still can, child-like, come as when in prayer
I bowed my head upon a mother's knee,
And deemed the world, like her, all truth and purity.