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Yes, Autumn's gloom to me is dearer
Than Spring, or Summer's sunniest smile ; And speaks a language far sincerer
Than their all cloudless skies. The wile Of Hope_life's darkly chequered vision,
Its passions, follies, pains, and fears ; Its dimness and its quick transition,
Methinks, are emblemed in her tears, Her bright though fading hues, and even The tempests that deform her heaven.
By foreign hands his dying eyes were closed;
He left his home with a bounding heart,
For the world was all before him; And felt it.scarce a pain to part,
Such sun-bright beams came o'er him. He turned him to visions of future years,
The rainbow's hues were round them; And a father's bodings a mother's tears
Might not weigh with the hopes that crowned them.
That mother's cheek is far paler now,
Than when she last caressed him; There's an added gloom on that father's brow,
Since the hour when last he blessed him. Oh, that all human hopes should prove
Like the flowers that will fade to-morrow; And the cankering fears of anxious love
Ever end in truth-and sorrow !
He left his home with a swelling sail,
With a spirit as free as the vernal gale,
Or the pennon above him streaming. He hath reached his goal :-by a distant wave,
’Neath a sultry sun, they've laid him; And stranger-forms bent o'er his grave
When the last sad rites were paid him.
He should have died in his own loved land,
With friends and kindred near him;
With no thought save of Heaven to cheer him. But what recks it now? Is his sleep less sound
In the port where the wild winds swept him, Than if home's
had bound, Or the hearts he loved had wept him ?
Then why repine? Can he feel the rays
That pestilent sun sheds o'er him;
Of the friends who now deplore him?
It hath 'scaped the storm's deep chiding; And, safe from the buffeting waves of the world, In a haven of Peace is riding.
FROM A PAINTING BY GUIDO IN THE DULWICH
Her golden ringlets float around her form