A SONG.
When Autumn's chilly winds complain
And red leaves withered fall,
We know that Spring will laugh again,
And leaf and flower recall.

But when Love's saddening Autumn wears
The hues that death presage,
No Spring in Winter's lap prepares
A second Golden Age.

So when Life's Autumn sadly sighs,
Yet smiles its cold tears through,
No Spring, with warm and sunny skies,
The Soul's youth will renew.

Love blooms but once and dies—for all,—
Life has no second Spring:
The frost must come, the snow must fall,
Loud as the lark may sing.

O Love! O Life! ye fade like flowers,
That droop and die in June;
The present, ah! too short, is ours;
And Autumn comes too soon.