The ruddy banners of the Autumn leaves
Toss out a challenge to the waiting snows,
Where Winter stalks from o'er the mountain rows;
This fiery blaze his onward march receives,
A mock defence his coward heart believes,
And turns him sulking to his moated close.
Now Man the confidence of Nature knows,
And feels the mighty heart that loves and grieves.
Not as in rude young March or hoyden June,
Hard in their beauty, laughing thro' their days;
Their fine indifference is out of tune.
In the dark paths we tread in hope and fear
Look we to Autumn and her gracious ways,
The great last swan-song of the dying year.
THE TIDE OF
THE HEART
Love, when you leave me, as with moon-bent tide
The glad waves leave the beaches of my heart;
Slowly and indolently they depart
Ripple by ripple, till the light has died
And left the naked sands forlorn to bide
The sea's return. No might of human power
Can fill the empty waste, nor take one hour
From that long durance in Earth's prison wide.
But when you come again, and hold your hands
Dear hands, outstretched to take me, then, the waves,
They turn, full flooded on the fainting sands,
And all the dimpled hollows smile again,
And brimmed with life, the deep mysterious caves
Forget the distant night of lonely pain.