'Tis Autumn:--Autumn yet shall break thy heart!
Fly away! fly away!--
The sun creeps 'gainst the hill
And climbs and climbs
And rests at every step.
How faded grew the world!
On weary, slackened strings the wind
Playeth his tune.
Fair Hope fled far--
He waileth after.
'Tis Autumn:--Autumn yet shall break thy heart!
Fly away! fly away!
O fruit of the tree,
Thou tremblest, fallest?
What secret whispered unto thee
The Night,
That icy shudders deck thy cheek,
Thy cheek of purple hue?
Silent art thou, nor dost reply--
Who speaketh still?--
'Tis Autumn:--Autumn yet shall break thy heart!
Fly away! fly away!--
"I am not fair,"--
So speaks the lone star-flower,--
"Yet men I love
And comfort men--
Many flowers shall they behold,
And stoop to me,
And break me, ah!--
So that within their eyes shall gleam
Remembrance swift,
_Remembrance of far fairer things than I_:--
I see it--see it--and I perish so."
'Tis Autumn:--Autumn yet shall break thy heart!
Fly away! fly away!