AUTUMN. THOU Comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain, POEMS. Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspended So long beneath the heaven's o'erhanging eaves; Thy steps are by the farmer's prayers attended, Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid, Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves ! DANTE. TUSCAN, thou wanderest through the realms of gloom, With thoughtful pace, and sad majestic eyes, Stern thoughts and awful from thy soul arisc Like Farinata from his fiery tomb. Thy sacred song is like the trump of doom; Yet in thy heart what human sympathies, What soft compassion glows, as in the skies The tender stars their clouded lamps relumc! II |